Never Give Up, It's A Wonderful Life
by SwissMiss1
Summary: When Hermione Granger is assigned Severus Snape's old quarters, she never expects to find his ghost haunting them. But is everything really as it appears? SSHG, epilogue compliant. Originally written for Harry Holidays 2010 on LiveJournal.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. _

_Author's Note: This was written for Harry Holidays 2010 as a gift to the community, since the original recipient dropped out. One of the original recipient's requests was "based on a film", so the plot is drawn from the 2005 movie "Just Like Heaven" with Reese Witherspoon and Mark Ruffalo. Also, I put together a soundtrack for this fic, but as won't allow links, I will just put the name of the song and the artist in each chapter._

_Title song: Hurts, "It's a Wonderful Life"_

_Chapter 1 song: Caleigh Peters, "I Can Do Anything"_

**Chapter 1**

"Oh, Hermione, dear, come in. I'm so glad you're here." Professor McGonagall waved Hermione into her office from behind the massive stacks of parchment and boxes on her desk. "The Board of Governors doesn't seem to realize that we need to have things up and running in two weeks, not two years! They're balking now at some of the expenditures, even though Madam Terwilliger assured me just last week there would be no problem pushing them through. Ach!" She tossed a sheaf of papers up into the air, sending them flying neatly to the top of a pile that had already reached precarious dimensions. "Never mind, 'tis none of your concern," she told Hermione apologetically. "Come in, have a seat!"

The elderly witch made her way through the bricks, buckets, ladders, bundles of fabric, and other various items heaped up around the room. A space had been cleared by the fire to make a cozy corner, and a settee and a couple of comfortable chairs were angled to make the most of the spectacular view of Hogwarts' grounds and the distant mountains. It was a pleasantly warm, late summer afternoon, and the landscape stretched out below them, peaceful and golden. It was hard to imagine this had been the site of such terrible carnage a few brief weeks earlier.

Hermione smiled and closed the door behind her. "I'm so excited about this opportunity, Professor. I can't tell you how much it means to me to have you entrust me with a teaching position, especially considering I never formally completed my schooling."

"Piddle-posh, Hermione, and didn't I tell you to call me Minerva?" She sat down in one of the chairs, gesturing for Hermione to do the same. "Your NEWT scores were exemplary, as I expected. And not even Lucius Malfoy could deny that no one is better qualified to teach our young wizards and witches about the Muggle world. May I offer you a cup of tea? I could do with a break myself."

"Thank you, that would be lovely," Hermione said as she sank down onto the other chair. "I shall certainly do my best. There are so many misconceptions, even among Muggle enthusiasts like Mr. Weasley. And I can only imagine what sort of horrible lies were spread by the Carrows last year."

"Indeed." McGonagall nodded sharply as she twirled her wand around to Conjure the tea things. "Of course, most of the students realized it was all a bunch of hogwash, but there is a certain, shall we say, impressionable element, whose beliefs you may have to work hard to retrench. You will have my full support, of course, as well as that of the entire staff."

"I appreciate it. Thank you," Hermione said, accepting a cup from the Headmistress. "How is the rebuilding coming along?" She politely refrained from saying that it didn't look like much progress, if any, had been made since she'd last been there. There were still gaping holes in the outer walls, and on her way up through the castle, she'd had to skirt several piles of rubble and even double back at one point where the staircases were completely missing, and seek an alternate route.

McGonagall grimaced as she confirmed Hermione's suspicions. "Slowly. There aren't many witches or wizards in Britain with the knowledge of how to work the kinds of charms Hogwarts needs. Even Filius says it's beyond him. I've got a line on a master stonecharmer in Italy, but the cost..." The Headmistress sighed. "That's just one of the items the Board is giving me a hard time over." She blew across the top of her tea and took a sip.

"Maybe I can help," Hermione offered. "I'd need someone to teach me, of course, but I've always been quick at picking up new magic."

McGonagall smiled at her over the edge of her cup. "That's very sweet of you, Hermione, and it may be that there ends up being something you can do, but for the time being, I need you to concentrate on getting ready for the term. These two weeks will fly by, believe me!"

"Of course, you're right. Still, if there's anything I can do..."

"You'll be at the top of my list, never fear," McGonagall assured her. "However, this talk of rebuilding brings up a most pertinent point. Unfortunately, as I'm sure you saw on your way up here, there are still large parts of the castle that are unusable. Our first priority has to be to provide a basic infrastructure for teaching and accommodations. As such, some adjustments will have to be made. The entire west wing of the third floor, for example, is exposed to the elements due to a breach in the wall. And as you may recall-"

"That's where the Muggle Studies classroom is," Hermione completed the thought.

"Yes. There are other classes similarly affected; the roof of the Divination classroom fell victim to a giant's fist. The only solution that I have come up with is to double up in several of the remaining functional classrooms. It will mean longer days; classes will go right up until dinner time. But I feel confident the staff and student body of Hogwarts will pull together."

"Again, you can count on me," Hermione said stoutly.

"Excellent. There remains then only the matter of your personal accommodations." Professor McGonagall looked hesitant, as if she wasn't sure how to proceed with a most delicate subject.

"I'd be happy to share a room with another professor," Hermione said, assuming that was what the Headmistress was getting at.

"No, no, I don't believe it will come to that," McGonagall assured her. "However, it is true that poor Charity's rooms are among those currently unfit for habitation. As such, I have had to find other quarters for you."

"Don't tell me I'll be moving in with Mr. Filch's mops," Hermione joked.

"No, these are well-furnished, comfortable living quarters. Now, Hermione, if you think this will be a problem in any way, I want you to let me know. We can find another arrangement, I'm sure. This just seemed like the simplest solution at the moment, as they are currently the only quarters not being used."

It only took Hermione a moment to sort through the possibilities: the only staff quarters that could be free were Professor Dumbledore's and Professor Snape's, as the rest of the teachers would be returning. And it wasn't likely that Professor McGonagall would be giving her the former Headmaster's rooms.

"Dawlish will be the new Head of Gryffindor house, and is therefore taking over my old rooms in Gryffindor Tower. I have moved up here," McGonagall confirmed Hermione's line of thinking. Diarmuid Dawlish would also be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. It remained to be seen whether Voldemort's curse on the position had died with him.

"...and that leaves Professor Snape's old rooms down in the lower levels," Hermione concluded.

"The dungeons were completely spared of any damage during the battle," Professor McGonagall said.

Of course, Hermione thought, there were only Slytherins down there, and the Death Eaters wouldn't have been after attacking any of them.

Professor McGonagall continued, "I think you'll find that, as Head of Slytherin House, Professor Snape appropriated the best rooms for himself. In addition to the bedroom, living room, and bath, there is an additional chamber that he had set up as a personal potions laboratory. I dare say you'd have more personal space at your disposal than any other member of staff."

"It sounds quite generous, thank you," Hermione said with grace, although she did feel more than a bit odd about taking over Professor Snape's old rooms.

"I've had a quick look around down there myself, and it all looks very much in order. I'm afraid there's no budget for extensive redecoration, but if you do find that any of the basic furnishings are damaged or unusable, let me know and we can have them replaced. You may also feel free to remove any items you find unnecessary or inconvenient. We will either find another use for them elsewhere in the castle, or... dispose of them in an appropriate manner."

Hermione understood what Professor McGonagall was trying to say: She had checked the rooms for Death Eater paraphernalia or anything that might be connected to Lord Voldemort, but it might be that she had missed something, and she was warning Hermione against any unpleasant surprises.

"I understand," Hermione told her, steeling herself for just such an eventuality. "I'm sure it will be fine."

Professor McGonagall and Hermione chatted for another quarter of an hour, Hermione outlining her syllabus, and McGonagall filling Hermione in on her administrative duties. When they were interrupted by an owl pecking insistently at the window, Hermione excused herself to allow the Headmistress to get back to work.

On her way down to the dungeon level, Hermione took a quick detour to peek into the Great Hall. As the venue of the final show-down between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort, as well as the place where several people had died, on both sides, it would no longer be used to take regular meals. Instead, it was being dedicated as a memorial site. Meals would be served in another large space near the kitchens that had previously been used for storage.

Empty of furniture, the hall now appeared cavernous. The lack of light further contributed to the dreary atmosphere. The enchanted ceiling was dark, its magic broken by the hits it had taken from wild curses during the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione shivered and closed the door again. It would be a long time before she set foot in there again.

As she went back across the entry hall, heading for the stairs leading to the lower levels, she ran into Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra, both of whom congratulated her and welcomed her to the staff. Flitwick also invited Hermione to call him by his first name, but the tall, aloof Astronomy professor merely twitched her nose and said she was sorry about what had happened to Professor Burbage, and was certain Hermione would be a worthy successor.

When she finally found herself facing the heavy, iron-studded door leading into Professor Snape's rooms - her rooms now, she corrected herself- she paused to gather her wits. This might be the former lodging of a Death Eater (although she knew Snape had been loyal to Dumbledore in the end, he had still been a card-carrying member of Voldemort's organization, and done some pretty horrible things himself to boot), but the space itself was neutral. She was the one who would imbue the rooms with their aura, and she wanted to start off on the right foot.

Swinging the door open with a confidence she didn't necessarily feel, she took a deep breath and entered.

The room was ... somewhat of a let-down. There was a standard assortment of furniture - sofa, desk, chairs, bookshelves, side tables. The cold stone floor was covered by a sturdy brown rug. The house-elves must have known she was on her way, for a hearty fire burned in the grate: despite the fact that it was the middle of August, the dungeons never lost their chilly edge. She half-expected to see a silver mask peeking out from under the sofa, sinister black robes draped over the back of a chair, or a faded blood stain not quite scrubbed out of the rug. But there was none of that. At first, she was excited to discover books on the shelves, and ran over, eager to investigate Snape's reading material, until she realized they were her own books, already unpacked and organized by the house-elves. There was nothing of Snape's left. Minerva had done a thorough job. The first word that sprang to mind when she looked around was "sanitized".

Hermione closed the door and began exploring the suite more thoroughly. The walls were bare, except for a single, long landscape painting opposite the sofa. It depicted a beautiful sunset, and Hermione was already spinning yarns in her head regarding Snape's sensitive side, when she realized it was a window-picture showing a view across Hogwarts' grounds. As she stood there, she was able to see the sky subtly darken on its way toward night. Minerva had probably had it hung there for her. Or maybe all of the living quarters below ground had a similar picture, to brighten the gloomy atmosphere and provide a bit of daylight. She felt vaguely disappointed, as she had about the books.

As Minerva had said, there were three rooms and a private bath. The smallish annex off the main room with worktop, shelves, and built-in cupboards - now all empty - Hermione took to be the former private potions laboratory. She thought she might turn it into a study or library, leaving the main room for more leisurely activities.

The other door led to the bedroom. Hermione felt a squirm of discomfort as she opened it, thinking about sleeping in the same bed Snape had slept in - possibly even using the same sheets! (Although of course everything would have been thoroughly cleaned and freshened up by the ever-dutiful house-elves.) Again, though, the bedroom resembled nothing more than a nondescript middle-class hotel. There was absolutely nothing to give any hint of the room's former occupant. The bed was a generously sized single four-poster with no curtains. The fluffy duvet and pillow had matching brown covers (not green, she noted cynically) and the sheets were crisp and white. There was a tall, wooden wardrobe, and when Hermione opened it, she found it already filled with her own things, again courtesy of the house-elves.

"Thanks, Dobby; fellas!" Hermione called out as she closed the closet.

The adjacent en-suite bath was large enough, and had a lovely claw-footed tub, but no shower. That might explain why Snape had not necessarily washed his hair every day. Hermione made a note to ask Minerva if she might not have one installed. She certainly didn't fancy having to wash her mass of chestnut hair under the tap every morning!

Wandering back out into the living room, she felt slightly deflated. There really wasn't much left for her to do. She didn't feel like going out and wandering about the castle, especially with so few residents present at the moment. She might have gone out onto the grounds to see Hagrid, but he had set up house in a marquee-sized tent while his own hut was being rebuilt, and she'd had quite enough of tents for the time being.

Plus, for some reason, she was feeling a bit melancholy. It was probably being here again, in the castle, with the events of two months ago still fresh, both in her mind and in the physical scars left in the building. Or maybe these rooms were really having an effect on her. Not the way Minerva had feared; but the fact of their sparseness, their lack of personality, brought home to her once again that people had died, their lives ended, all that they had worked for and been - eradicated in the blink of an eye.

It hadn't really hit her like this with Fred; there were so many Weasleys left, although Fred's absence was felt, it was as if part of him were still there. Especially as one needed look no further than George's face to be reminded of his missing twin. With Remus and Tonks, well, Hermione had never really been that close to either of them. She did feel sad that little Teddy would grow up without his mother and father, but again, he was there as their legacy. His colorful tufts of hair were a constant reminder of Tonks, and everyone said he had his toothy grin from his father. Andromeda had already plastered his room with pictures of his parents, so much that Harry joked the boy was going to think he was the offspring of television personalities who were simply too busy to come home, but waved good-night to him every night from their screens.

But Snape? There was nothing left of him. No relatives, no pictures, no publications, no one to keep his memory alive. Although he had been officially rehabilitated and pardoned by the Ministry as a result of the memories he had left Harry, his legacy was still a touchy matter that most people would rather not be associated with. He must have had personal possessions, though, things that weren't connected to Voldemort. Books, papers, perhaps correspondence and pictures; he'd had a family, too, or at least parents, even if they were all dead, although Hermione wasn't even sure of that. Hermione wondered what Minerva had done with everything. Maybe she would ask her ... if she could come up with a good reason for it, beyond idle curiosity. It just felt wrong that Snape's life should be so thoroughly expunged from the face of the planet. Perhaps, in a way, in inheriting his rooms, she had inherited a responsibility to see to it that he wasn't forgotten. Perhaps. Or maybe she should just concentrate on moving on. Preparing for her classes. Yes, that's what she needed to do. As she'd already decided, there were enough ghosts about the castle without her adding to them.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter song: Rodgers & Hammerstein, "Getting to Know You"_

**Chapter 2**

When Hermione awoke, she had no sense of time or place. It was pitch black, and it was only the fact that she felt a soft mattress under her and a warm duvet over her that, after a few brief moments of panic, she was able to place herself in Hogwarts. She was unused to sleeping in a room without a window or at least semi-opaque canvas walls that let in the morning light. She quickly decided to have another one of those window-pictures mounted in the bedroom as well. At the moment, however, in lieu of that, she spoke a single-word command to increase the magical illumination so she could check the time. As soon as the ambient light increased enough for her eyes to react, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest, and she emitted an ear-piercing scream that would certainly have cracked all the windows in the room, had there been any.

Severus Snape was standing next to her bed.

Hermione scrambled back, gathering the covers around her, scrabbling on the night stand for her wand, all the while not letting Snape out of her sight.

"Stop that shrieking this instant!" he thundered, putting his hands over his ears. "And get out of my bed!"

"This- What- Minerva said-" Hermione didn't even know where to start. She had now got hold of her wand and held it up in front of her for protection. "Minerva - Professor McGonagall - She assigned me these rooms. I'm not-" Hermione looked more closely at Snape, still breathing heavily. It slowly dawned on her that he was not quite corporeal. She was able to see through him, although not as easily as she could see through the castle ghosts. This was due to the fact that he did not appear in the drab, pearly gray she was used to ghosts being, but in the same colors he bore in real life. In other words, his robes were black, his skin sallow but not colorless - in fact, there were two spots of high color on his cheeks - and his eyes were that bottomless, piercing black that always made her shiver and look away in class.

"Wait," she said, gaining mastery over her racing heart. "You're a ghost. I think," she added uncertainly, slightly perplexed by his non-standard appearance. She loosened her grasp on the covers as she leaned forward to get a better look.

"Regardless," he replied through clenched teeth. "These are still _my _rooms, and _you _have no business in them. What have you done with my things?"

"Nothing," Hermione replied defensively. "This is how everything was when I arrived. You'll have to ask Minerva."

"Nosy meddling Gryffindors," Snape growled. "Think as soon as one's dead, they can just take over."

"Are you really..." Hermione's curiosity got the better of her and she relaxed as she realized he couldn't actually do anything to her. "So you're a ghost. Ha! I thought you would be glad to be done with the lot of us. And here you are, decided to come back."

"I didn't _decide _anything," he spat bitterly. "I simply found myself here. Now will you get out of my bed? There is something decidedly indecent about the sight of you wallowing about among my sheets. Why aren't you in Gryffindor tower? Was it destroyed?" A sudden look of horror overtook him. "I'm not going to find Potter on my couch, am I?"

"They're my sheets now, and my bed," Hermione said. "It's been months since the Battle. Gryffindor tower is still standing, but the castle was extensively damaged. These are the only rooms available. I'm a professor now. Minerva's the Headmistress."

"Merlin save us," Snape groaned.

"You mean you really don't know what's happened?"

"How should I?" he asked snidely. "I'm dead, after all. I assume Potter won."

"Yes. Harry won. _We _won. Voldemort was destroyed. But it's been months. Where have you been this whole time?"

"I don't know!" Snape exploded. "Argh, if only I could-" He made a grab at Hermione, trying to catch her arm. She flinched away, reflexively, but it didn't matter; Snape's hand passed right through her without her feeling a thing.

"This isn't going to get us anywhere," Hermione said firmly. "I don't see why you're making such a fuss. It's not as if you need to sleep anymore. And the shortage of accommodations is due to the damage the castle took from the battle launched by _your _compatriots."

"You're treading on thin ice, Miss Granger," Snape warned.

"Yes, yes, I know you were actually trying to help our side. But you had a strange way of showing it, letting Death Eaters into the castle and putting students directly in harm's way."

"I don't need to answer to you!"

"No, but maybe that's why you're still here. Maybe you need to make up for your past, balance out your karma."

"I don't need your lectures about the state of my soul or my afterlife. I had enough of that from Dumbledore when he was alive."

"Have you seen him?" Hermione asked, curious. "Dead, I mean? Like Harry did when he died, before he came back?"

"No!" Snape retorted. "I haven't seen anyone, just an intrusive, troublesome Gryffindor who won't get out of my bed!"

Hermione growled in the back of her throat, threw the covers back, and hopped out of bed. "There! Happy now?"

Snape's eyes widened. "Is this what passes for sleepwear among Gryffindors these days? I won't have to worry about you being here much longer if that's how you dress," he said with a sneer. "You'll catch your death and be out of my hair within the week."

Hermione looked down at herself. She was wearing a white spaghetti-strap cotton camisole on top and nothing but her knickers on the bottom. Admittedly, it wasn't the most appropriate thing for the dungeon, but it was what she was used to, and it had been warm enough under the covers. Now that she was out of bed and standing on the unheated floor, however, she was mortified to realize that the chill was causing an embarrassing reaction, and she crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to cover it up.

"No one asked to you look!" she exclaimed.

"Don't flatter yourself," Snape drawled. "I can assure you the sight of you stirs nothing in me aside from gratitude for Hogwarts' dress code, which ensures that in the classroom at least, I am not subject to such indecent displays."

Hermione struggled with her temper, a tart retort on the tip of her tongue about no one wanting to subject him to such displays anywhere else either. She was only able to bite it back because of the innate respect she still held for the professor - or at least, for his title, and for some of the good things he had done.

"Fine," she said instead, with forced calm. "If you would be so good as to go into the other room so I can get dressed, I will be out in a moment and we can discuss things in an adult manner. I'm certain we can come to some sort of agreement."

"The only thing I will be agreeing to is you packing up your things and finding another place to sleep!" Nevertheless, Snape turned and moved toward the door, fading away when he reached it.

Hermione quickly visited the bathroom, then pulled on a pair of trousers, a jumper, and some socks, and ran a de-tangling charm over her hair. When she arrived in the living room, she found Snape standing with his back to her, perusing the bookcase.

"'Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus'?" Snape sounded both derisive and amused.

"It's for _research_," Hermione said firmly. "I'm teaching Muggle Studies." Although to tell the truth, she had mostly bought it for personal reasons; after all the mixed signals sent to her by Ron, she despaired of ever understanding the male of the species, much less being involved in a satisfactory relationship with one.

"It sounds more like something the centaurs would spout," Snape said. "But then I hardly imagined you would be teaching something of importance."

"I'm not surprised to hear that from you," Hermione returned. "It's attitudes like that which provide fertile ground for Death Eater propaganda."

"Do not presume you know my motivations," Snape said in a low voice.

"I know about Harry's mother," she told him loftily. "I also know you were a half-blood yourself, but you never stood up for other half-bloods or Muggle-borns when they were the subject of taunting by your Slytherins and other purebloods. You would have been in the perfect position to disabuse them of their misinformed and frankly idiotic prejudices, but you kept the fact of your own heritage a well-guarded secret from everyone. Why? If not that you held those same prejudices against Muggles and Muggle-borns."

"My personal life is not the subject here! Your invasion of my privacy is, and there will be no further discussion of either subject. You will pack up your things, or instruct the house-elves to do so, and retreat to Gryffindor tower, Hogsmeade, or camp out on the front lawn for all I care."

"I would gladly do any of those things, if it were possible or convenient for me to take up my teaching position whilst doing so. These are the quarters assigned to me by the Headmistress. I'm sorry about your things being removed. I meant to ask Minerva about them anyway. Now I have a reason to. Better yet, why don't you come with me? We can go up to her office right now and get this settled."

"Gladly. Now that I am finally free, I have no intention of living out eternity subject to the whims of supposedly well-meaning Gryffindors."

"Someone needs a lesson in interhouse unity," Hermione muttered underneath her breath.

"I heard that," Snape said crisply.

Hermione merely rolled her eyes as she put on her shoes. When she was ready to leave, she looked around, but Snape was already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter song: James Taylor, "Something's Wrong"_

**Chapter 3**

It was just after seven a.m. when Hermione arrived at the Headmistress's office. She wouldn't normally disturb her at such an hour, but she knew that Professor McGonagall was an early riser, and this really was something of an emergency.

Much as she expected, Hermione found the Headmistress already sitting at her desk, quill in hand and a cup of tea at her elbow.

"Hermione!" McGonagall greeted her with a mixture of pleasure and surprise. "Good morning! I do hope nothing is amiss?"

"I'm terribly sorry to disturb you so early," Hermione began, looking around. "Is Professor Snape not here yet?"

Professor McGonagall frowned. "Severus? Oh," she went on, her face clearing. "You mean his portrait. No, unfortunately, things have been in such a state of disarray it seems to have been misplaced. I really do have other priorities," she added, a bit defensively.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I meant Professor Snape's ghost. Although it is a shame about his portrait. Maybe that's why he's still here..." Hermione mused, thinking that perhaps his unusually colorful appearance was in some way connected to his missing portrait.

Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione sharply. "His ghost? Don't tell me he's decided to haunt Hogwarts?"

"It appears so," Hermione admitted. "I ran into him just now in his- I mean in my quarters. He was quite put out about my being there, and all his things being gone. Do you still have them somewhere? Maybe he could be persuaded to take up residence in another room that's not needed for the living."

Professor McGonagall began rummaging around among the papers on her desk, muttering something about 'inopportune time' and 'bloody-minded Slytherin'. "The Ministry sent some forms for registering any ghosts that might show up after the Battle of Hogwarts," she explained. "Quite honestly, I was afraid we'd be inundated, but this will be the first one."

"I was a bit surprised to see him, myself. I mean, aside from the fact that I woke up to find him looming over my bed-"

Professor McGonagall snorted in amusement from behind a pile of papers.

"I wonder what it is that's kept him back," Hermione said. "Whether he has unfinished business."

"I'm afraid I'm no expert in Spectrology," McGonagall replied, Levitating a stack of scrolls to peer underneath them. "Very often, I don't think even the ghosts themselves know why they have remained behind." She sighed and returned the scrolls to their original position. "I'll have to owl the Ministry for another form. It will be quicker than trying to find anything in this mess. I'll have to speak to his ghost myself, as well. Not that I don't believe you," the Headmistress hastened to add.

"Oh, no, that's fine. In fact, he said he was going to meet me here. Perhaps he's having trouble finding his way up. That one staircase-"

"Yes, terrible," Professor McGonagall commiserated. "That one right next to the library. It's at the top of my list. However, as a ghost, a missing staircase shouldn't pose any problem to him," she pointed out.

"Oh, yes," Hermione tittered, feeling stupid. "That's right. I don't know then. Should we wait a bit longer? He did seem keen to find out where his things were."

Professor McGonagall looked embarrassed. "I disposed of most of it," she confessed. "Clothes, toiletries... they weren't of any use to anyone. The books went into the Hogwarts library, and the - you'll excuse me, but I turned anything associated with those horrid Death Eaters over to the Aurors."

"What about personal correspondence? Pictures?"

"The few things I didn't know what else to do with are in a box here somewhere..." Professor McGonagall stood and looked half-heartedly around the room. "It wasn't much. Really, nothing of value."

"Do you mind if I look around? I have a feeling if we can at least offer him something, he may be more amenable to a compromise."

"Be my guest. I'll give you a hand." She turned around and crouched down to peek into some boxes piled up behind the desk. "I'm sorry I can't even tell you where to start looking. It could be anywhere. There have simply been so many things needing my attention."

"I know," Hermione said with a smile and began poking around the various piles of items, being careful to replace everything just as she had found it.

"Other than that, are you finding things to your liking?" McGonagall asked.

"Oh, yes. I mean, it'll take some getting used to, but the rooms and furnishings themselves are fine. Well," Hermione amended as she reached behind half a suit of armor to get at a crate, "I could do with a shower. Do you think it might be possible to have one put in?"

"Nothing here," Professor McGonagall muttered and turned to another corner. "A shower, you say?" she repeated, somewhat louder. "I'll put it on the list for the Aquamages. It may be a couple of weeks. They're having to re-plumb nearly everything on the ground floor."

"That would be lovely," Hermione said, sliding the crate out and prying it open, only to find it full of Ever-Burning Candles. "And would there by any chance be another window-picture floating around? The bedroom is quite dark and could do with some brightening up."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you there," Professor McGonagall said ruefully. "Those have always been a hot item, and a few seem to have 'walked off' during or after the Battle. Along with all four House banners from the Great Hall, two complete suits of armor, and countless lesser items. Keepsakes, souvenirs, I'm sure I don't know. Mr. Filch is livid."

"How terrible!" Hermione exclaimed, reaching for another crate.

"I'm fairly certain the one in your quarters only survived because no one was able to get past Severus' security measures. It took the Headmaster's Key to override them."

"Thank goodness for that."

"Ha!" Professor McGonagall cried out triumphantly. "I do believe I've found it." She heaved a small wooden trunk up onto her desk with a thunk.

Hermione stood up and went over to join her. The Headmistress started to open the lid, but Hermione put out her hand to stop her. "Wait. Are you certain these are his things?"

"Yes, this is the box I put them in. Don't you want to take a look?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. He wouldn't like me 'wallowing around' in his things. I'd rather respect his privacy. I'll bring them down and see what he'd like done with them."

"I'll come with you. I'm rather curious to see the ghost of Severus Snape."

On their way down, Professor McGonagall pointed out the classroom Hermione would be sharing with Professor Vector, as well as several repair projects needing urgent attention. They even ran into a pair of Aquamages already at work, peering into a gaping hole in the floor, and put in the order for Hermione's shower.

When they reached Professor Snape's former quarters, Hermione paused to knock before entering. "I don't want to surprise him," she explained to Professor McGonagall with an apologetic shrug.

"Hello? Professor Snape?" Hermione called out softly as she opened the door. "I was up in Professor McGonagall's office, but you never came. She's here with me now." She looked around the silent room. "It doesn't look like he's here," she said, ushering Professor McGonagall in.

"Severus?" the Headmistress called out sharply. "Severus, I haven't time for games! If you're here, come out immediately. These are Professor Granger's rooms now. We can find another room for you, if needs be. I can't afford to allow a ghost to occupy a suite with a working bath. Now really, Severus. Be reasonable!"

"Maybe he ran into trouble with one of the other ghosts, or with Peeves," Hermione ventured, feeling as if she somehow needed to defend him.

"Well, that's as may be. Or perhaps he did decide to move on, or visit someone else. In any case, I really do have more pressing matters to attend to. Will you be all right with keeping the box with his things here for the time being?"

"Of course," Hermione said.

"Excellent." McGonagall turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway. "Don't hesitate to come and see me for any reason, anything at all, Hermione. You know my door is always open to you. Oh, and dear?" Professor McGonagall's brisk manner softened as she laid a gentle hand on Hermione's arm. "Don't let Severus get to you. He's a hard nut, but he really is a good sort underneath it all."

"He's certainly a complicated person," Hermione allowed.

"That he is. Or was," Professor McGonagall agreed. "If he does show up again, please let him know he needs to come see me if he wants to haunt the castle. I'm sure we can work something out."

"Thank you, Minerva," Hermione said, the name still feeling unfamiliar on her tongue.

"You're quite welcome." She looked around, her eyes searching the ceiling and far corners. "That goes for you, too, Severus, wherever you are," she said to the room at large before taking her leave.

Hermione closed the door after her and looked down at the chest she was still holding. A nearly irresistible call seemed to be emanating from it, insisting that she open it and look through the contents. Instead, she placed it deliberately on a small table and stepped away. She meant what she'd said to McGonagall about respecting Professor Snape's privacy. In addition, she certainly didn't want to give a ghost any reason to exact revenge on her, and most especially not the ghost of Severus Snape! The sooner she got him to move on, whether to the afterlife or another part of the castle, the better.

There were several things niggling at her, however: Snape's unorthodox appearance; the missing portrait; and last but not least, the fact that he'd simply disappeared after agreeing to meet in the Headmistress's office. It didn't seem like him to make an appointment and not keep it, not unless something had happened to him. But then, what could possibly happen to a ghost?

Hermione's stomach growled, reminding her of her very corporeal body and its requirement for nourishment. Trying to put thoughts of Professor Snape and his afterlife out of her mind, she quit her quarters once again to see what the house-elves were dishing up for breakfast.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter song: Milow, "You Don't Know"_

**Chapter 4**

That evening, the sun had just disappeared beneath the horizon in Hermione's window-picture as she settled down to work on her lesson plans. She'd spent most of the day gathering materials in the Hogwarts library, and had lunch with Hagrid. The half-giant seemed more interested in hearing news of Harry than discussing Hermione's plans for the school year, however, and Hermione left him with a vague feeling of disgruntlement.

All of a sudden, a familiar voice startled her, causing a large blotch of ink to sully her parchment.

"What are you still doing here?" Snape demanded from right behind her.

Hermione turned around in her chair. "Would it be terribly difficult to knock?" she asked testily. "I've been doing you the same courtesy," she told him, adding in an undertone, "even if you haven't been around to appreciate it. And what happened to you this morning, anyway?" she continued, at a normal volume. "I thought we were going to meet in Minerva's office to discuss things."

"I was unable to reach her office. In fact, I only seem to be able to appear in these rooms, and you are always here!" he exploded.

Hermione's eyes narrowed as her investigative mode clicked on. "I haven't been in all day. Where have you been this whole time?"

"I don't know, blast it!" Snape exploded. "Nowhere! What does that matter? The point is that you are where you should not be."

"No, now wait a minute," Hermione said, ignoring Snape's pique in the face of a very interesting problem. "There's something odd going on here." She stood up and walked once around Snape, inspecting him up and down. "Very odd indeed..."

"Do you mind?" Snape sniffed haughtily, pulling his robes tighter around himself.

"But don't you wonder," Hermione said, crouching down to peer up through his body, "why you're in color? Ghosts are generally colorless, in my experience."

"I do not," Snape said, stepping away and eying her with distaste.

"Are you quite certain you're a ghost?" she asked.

"What else should I be, foolish girl? I was bitten in the neck by a giant magical snake and left to die on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. The next thing I know, I find myself here, unable to interact with material objects, and arguing with you over whose quarters these are!"

"You might be a portrait, for example," Hermione suggested. "One without a frame or canvas, to be sure. Minerva said your Headmaster's portrait had gone missing."

Snape scoffed. "Convenient, that. I'm sure I don't know if I am a disembodied portrait. If so, someone had better put me to rights!"

"Absolutely. And I will do everything in my power to help you, I promise. But first I'd like to run a few experiments." She returned to the desk and grabbed a parchment and a quill and began scribbling things down. "First. You say you are only able to appear here, in these quarters. Can you move through walls at all?"

"I don't see what-" Snape began.

"Humor me," Hermione said. "The more we find out about your situation, the better we'll be able to help."

"Don't you think your first priority should be to find my missing portrait?"

"Oh, I'll do that as well. The thing is, the last time I left you, you simply disappeared into thin air. As it seems you haven't any control over where and when you re-appear, I'd like to gather as much information as I can as long as I've got you here. Oh! I nearly forgot!" Hermione went over to the table and picked up the box she'd brought down from the Headmistress's office that morning. "Minerva and I found your things." She held the box out to him.

Snape regarded it with a wary expression. "What is that?"

"Everything Minerva saved of yours. She gave away your clothes - you couldn't really use them anymore anyway," she pointed out hastily, afraid Snape was going to get even angrier at the fact that nearly all his belongings had been disposed of.

"My possessions encompassed much more than would fit into that box," Snape said with displeasure. "What of my books, my research?"

"Minerva said she had all your books transferred to the library." Seeing Snape's eyes widen in outrage, Hermione explained, "That's good! It's a good thing! Madam Pince will take extra good care of them, you know. You can still read them any time you want... if you are a ghost, that is, and not a portrait."

"Have you forgotten I can no longer open a book? Turn a page?" Snape spat out.

"I'm sure something can be arranged. A student could turn the pages for you," Hermione suggested off the top of her head, trying to find some way to appease him.

"Idiots! All of you, blundering idiots! I don't know why I even bother!" He turned away and began pacing. "If I am a ghost, all I desire is to be left alone, here, in my quarters, with everything put back the way it was."

"But sir," Hermione said, trying to be tactful, "you've just said yourself you can't _do _anything anymore. What good will it do for your books to mold, and your potions laboratory to collect dust, unused?"

"And so you've come in like vultures, ripped my life work apart and scattered it to the four winds, scavenging the bits and bobs that might be entertaining to imbeciles who have no idea of their importance?"

"That's not quite fair," Hermione said. "Professor McGonagall has a lot to take care of. She's practically single-handedly trying to get Hogwarts up and running again."

"To teach another batch of dunderheads to blow each other up," Snape snarled.

"I rather think the point is to teach them how _not _to blow each other up," Hermione countered coolly.

Snape harrumphed, then pointed at the box. "And what is left of my legacy then, that you've decided is not valuable enough to appropriate for others? A toothbrush and some buttons?"

"I don't know, to be honest. I haven't looked inside."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Really?" he drawled. "I find that difficult to believe."

"Still, it's the truth. Your privacy seems to mean a lot to you. I didn't want to invade it more than I already have by being here."

"How noble," he sneered.

"There's no need to be cruel," she said, setting the box down again. "Really, I think you might let go of all this anger. The side you purported to be on won, in case you didn't know. Lord Voldemort is gone. I understand you might have had to put on a show to keep up your cover - if it was a cover - but there's no need to play the cold-blooded defender of Slytherin virtue anymore."

"What if it wasn't an act? What if I really am the barbaric bigot you take me for? Would you still be interested in respecting my privacy and helping me figure out what's happened to me?"

"Yes," Hermione said, jutting out her chin. "Because it would still be the right thing to do."

Snape groaned and rolled his eyes. "Spare me!" But he continued to watch Hermione with interest.

"You asked! I admit, I might not have as great an interest in helping you if you weren't dead set on haunting the quarters I've been assigned for the year, but now I'm intrigued. And, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I want to believe you were on our side, that you were trying to help the students last year. Neville told some absolutely horrid stories about what went on under your Headmastership. And some of the things you yourself did, to say nothing of what you allowed the Carrows to do."

"I had no choice!" Snape hissed. "If I had protested, the Dark Lord would have removed me in a heartbeat - and it would have been my last one!"

"I figured it was something like that. But even so, Neville and several other students managed to find ways to fight back. You could have helped them, without the Dark- without Voldemort knowing."

"You think I knew nothing of their little rebellion? You think I didn't know they were hiding in the Room of Hidden Things for weeks? Who saw to it that there was enough food for the Room to provide for all who sought refuge there? Who ensured that Gryffindor's sword got to Potter? Who stood over his cauldron for hours every night, sometimes going days on end without sleep, to keep the infirmary well-stocked with healing potions?" Snape cried, incensed.

"They wouldn't have needed healing potions if you had fought harder to keep the Death Eaters out of Hogwarts all together!" Hermione threw back at him, although she was already revising her image of the former Headmaster.

"Need I remind you that even the great Albus Dumbledore was removed as Headmaster and replaced with a sadistic High Inquisitor wielding a blood quill, and that was merely when a bunch of bumbling bureaucrats were running the Ministry?"

"At least she wasn't Crucio'ing anyone!"

"It would have come to that, if you hadn't played that clever trick with the centaurs," Snape said, and Hermione could almost have sworn she heard a grudging admiration in his words.

"I always wondered how she got away from them," Hermione reflected.

"They're not monsters," Snape said. "They merely have an overblown sense of justice, and a code of honor that would make even a Gryffindor pale."

Hermione giggled.

"I'm glad you find this all so amusing," Snape said, glaring.

"Oh, come on. You know I'm not laughing at you. You're much funnier now than when you were alive, though."

"I've been honing my wit since crossing over," Snape said dryly.

Hermione cocked her head to one side. "You know, I think it's really too bad that you died."

"Thank you," Snape droned.

"No, really. I would have liked to see how you are without all the Death Eater spy stuff. Would you still have been such a terror in the classroom?"

"With students like Longbottom and Goyle? Indubitably."

"I wouldn't be able to talk to you like this if you were still alive, of course. But death has quite a levelling effect. I rather like it."

"Perhaps we could arrange for you to try it sometime."

"Perhaps," Hermione mused. "Only not just yet. I still have things I want to do, and they involve being able to use my magic and my body."

"I'm sure I don't want to know," Snape said with straight-faced distaste.

"Not like that! I just meant, you know, going places, discovering things... I don't really see myself as a Professor Binns, teaching here forever and ever."

"Nor did I. If you must know, I never enjoyed teaching," he said stiffly. "It was a necessary and convenient cover. If I were still alive, Hogwarts is the last place I would choose to live out my days."

"Which makes it doubly strange that you should still be here," Hermione said briskly. "Perhaps we should get on with our questions, before you fade away again. Moving through walls?" She raised her eyebrows at Snape and nodded her head in the direction of the wall leading into the bedroom. "We know you can appear in the bedroom, so why don't you start with that."

Snape closed his eyes in a put-upon manner. "Oh, very well. I suppose complying with you will be the quickest way to get my rest, wherever that may turn out to be." He floated toward the wall and, as expected, melted away upon reaching it.

"Are you still there?" Hermione called out.

"Yeeessss..." Snape's voice rumbled back from the other room.

Hermione made a note on her parchment. "You can come back out. Right," she said, as soon as Snape had re-materialized. "I'd like to try you moving out of these rooms again, but we'll save that until the end, in case you disappear again.

"Next there's memory. You seem to be fully conversant in all of your experiences during life." She paused and tapped her quill against her cheek. "I'm afraid I don't know enough about your life to probe too deeply... Do you remember your mother's name?"

"Eileen Prince. Really, Miss Granger-"

"_Professor _Granger," she corrected him.

"-_Miss _Granger," he repeated, "there is nothing wrong with my memory of my life. It's what happened after..." he muttered, half to himself.

"Yes, you mentioned not knowing where you were today. Is this the first time that's happened? That you had a memory gap? What's the very next thing you remember after the snake in the Shrieking Shack?"

"Nothing! Seeing you here- there-" He gestured toward the bedroom.

"Really..." Hermione said, intrigued, and made another note. "And before that, nothing? Nothing at all? No darkness, no light at the end of a tunnel, no other spirits-"

"No!" Snape shouted. "Nothing! How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Just the once will do, thank you," Hermione said crisply. "Right." She tapped the nib of her quill against the parchment with an air of finality. "Let's just see what happens when you try to leave these quarters. First, through the door."

She went over to the door leading into the corridor and opened it. "If you do disappear, try to take note of where you are. And... try to come back."

"Hmph," Snape grunted. "If only to ensure that my portrait is found and hung with the proper respect."

"Don't worry, we'll find it. Or put you back into it. Whatever turns out to be the case."

Snape scowled, and moved toward the door. He hesitated at the threshold and turned to Hermione. "In case I disappear again..." he began, looking at her hard. "I ... appreciate you going to these lengths to help me."

Hermione felt a smile spread over her face. "You're welcome."

Snape scowled even harder. "And please. Wear something proper to bed. I wouldn't want to be faced with the same vision you subjected me to this morning." Then he moved through the doorway, and was gone.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione called, stepping out into the corridor. "Professor Snape?" She looked up and down the hallway, but all she could see were the wall sconces flaring to life at her presence. She went back into her room. "Professor Snape? Are you still here?"

There was no answer.

Feeling a great disappointment, Hermione closed the door. The room suddenly seemed cold and empty. A shiver ran up her spine. She wished Crookshanks were there for company, but she'd left him with the Weasleys, at least until she was settled in and the school year started. He was in his element, chasing gnomes in their garden. Her parents were still in Australia. As soon as she'd been able after the Battle, she'd gone to them and removed the spell blocking their memories. They were understandably both overjoyed to have her back, and angry about what she'd done. They'd parted on uncertain terms, all of them in agreement that they needed time to think about what had happened. There was no question of things going back to the way they were.

Hermione wandered across the small apartment and found herself standing on the threshold of the side room, where Snape's potions laboratory had been. A vision of him standing there, late at night, feverishly brewing remedies for the curses and abuse the Carrows were subjecting the students to, rose unbidden in her mind. She could fairly see the crease in his brow, the barely suppressed rage in his movements, his sharp features illuminated only by the light from his cauldron fire. The reason for him keeping these rooms, rather than moving to the Headmaster's suite, became clear. There was so much no one knew about him. And he had done it all not to earn public praise or an Order of Merlin, but simply because it was the right thing to do. The only thing he could do.

When Hermione went to bed that night, she left a light on in the living room. In case Snape came back.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter song: Family Force 5, "Topsy Turvy"_

**Chapter 5**

When Hermione awoke the next morning, the first thing she did was cautiously turn the lights up, prepared to see Snape looming over her. She was slightly disappointed to find that he wasn't. Maybe he had left for good. On the other hand, it was always good to start the day without one's former professor staring at one's bits - although she had taken the precaution of wearing a sweatshirt and loose leggings to bed this time, just in case.

Her first stop, once again, was the Headmistress's office, to inquire after Snape's portrait. Minerva let her search the room thoroughly, but it was nowhere to be found.

Now she was climbing a rickety ladder leading up to the castle's undercroft above the seventh floor, following one of the castle's house-elves. It was Hermione's idea to work back a step at a time to trace the portrait's whereabouts. As soon as a new Headmaster was invested by the Board of Governors, a photographic image was sent to one of the magical portrait painters under contract to Hogwarts. Once the portrait was finished, usually within a couple of weeks, it was sent back to Hogwarts, to be stored until the Headmaster died and the castle's magic imbued the portrait with his imprint, allowing it to talk and interact with the living. Snape's portrait must therefore have been completed early in the previous school year, and delivered to Hogwarts for storage. Hermione wanted to see whether the portrait had simply never been brought out, in the confusion following the Battle. If it wasn't there, then she would go one step further back and track down the portraitist.

She'd never been up in this part of the castle before. The ceiling was so low that Hermione had to bend over. Her house-elf guide, of course, had no such problem. The little grayish-green figure led Hermione past a row of what looked like cells with wooden slats dividing them. Through the slats, she could see neatly stored furniture, linens, and other things that might be needed to replace items that got broken or wore out during the school year.

"Headmasters' portraits is this way," the house-elf piped up from the dim recesses of the storage space. "Mistress Headmistress McGonagall's portrait is not being delivered yet. But Master Headmaster Snape's portrait is here. Spats is not losing it." He sounded insulted that someone would even think such a thing.

Hermione kept going until she caught up with him, standing in front of the last compartment. He wrung his hands together and looked up at Hermione earnestly. "Spats is never forgetting to bring down a portrait when it wakes up," he insisted. "Mistress Professor sees?" He gestured into the cell.

Hermione stuck her head into the small space. In a recess in the back wall hung a picture. It was hard to see what the subject was, as the lighting was dim, and the picture itself was quite dark.

"Master Headmaster Snape's portrait is not awake yet. When he is waking up, Spats is bringing it to the Headmistress's office."

Excited, Hermione squeezed into the storage cell to get a better look. If it were this easy to find the portrait, they were just a hop, skip, and a jump away from getting Snape's spirit properly housed. As she got closer, she could make out the dark-robed body, the pale face. His eyes were closed, and he did look like he was asleep. _Yes! _Hermione crowed to herself. She reached out to take the portrait out of its nook.

"Oh, no!" the house-elf cried, reaching out as if to stop Hermione from touching the portrait, then stopping and pulling at his ears. "Mistress Professor mustn't take the portrait yet. It is not awake! Hogwarts castle cannot wake him up if he is not on the wall."

"It's all right," Hermione soothed the elf, lowering her hands so as not to upset him further. "I need to fix the portrait... or have it fixed," she amended, not having any clue as to what enchantments were required to put unite the imprint of a deceased spirit and a magical portrait. "Professor Snape's ghost - or whatever it is - somehow got separated from his portrait. Maybe something happened during the Battle, something that damaged the castle's ability to wake the portrait up."

"Hogwarts castle was sorely injured, Mistress Professor is right," the house-elf said, still agitated, "but not so bad that Headmaster enchantments was broken. Mistress Headmistress McGonagall was accepted. All Headmaster keys are working. Master Headmaster Snape's portrait is not awake yet because Master Headmaster Snape is not dead yet."

Hermione frowned at the elf. "Of course he's dead. I saw him die with my own eyes. Maybe the problem is that he abandoned his post before he died? Maybe the castle is rejecting him as a true Headmaster for that reason?"

The house-elf shook his head vigorously. "Oh, no, Mistress Professor. Hogwarts castle is recognizing every witch and wizard who serves as Headmaster or Headmistress. What is happening to them later is not mattering. Spats is sure. Master Headmaster Snape is still alive."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She was afraid the house-elf might try to hurt himself if she took the portrait, thinking that he had failed in his charge. At least she knew where it was now. And as soon as she informed Professor McGonagall, the Headmistress could order that the portrait be brought down so they could work on it.

"It's all right," she said again, stepping back out of the storage room. "I won't take the portrait. Although Professor Snape is dead," she couldn't resist saying.

"Master Headmaster Snape is still alive," the house-elf's stubborn little voice repeated from behind her, as they made their way back to the ladder. "Hogwarts castle is knowing."

======

"That's ridiculous!" Harry said from the flames of Hermione's fireplace.

"It is, right?" Hermione agreed with a small laugh. "I mean, we saw him die!" She was sitting on the floor of her quarters, having returned there after reporting to Minerva on what she'd found. The Headmistress had agreed to talk to the elves and see about bringing the portrait down to Hermione's rooms, as that appeared to be the only place Snape's spirit was able to manifest.

"No doubt," Harry said, his head flickering ghoulishly in the fire. "It wasn't as if we could have done anything for him, either. He didn't have a drop of blood left in him."

"Still, it's odd. Minerva said she didn't know where he was buried. She thought the Death Eaters made off with his body."

Harry's image shuddered. "I wouldn't like to think what they did with it."

"Well, they didn't know he wasn't actually on their side, did they? Even Voldemort thought he was pretty much loyal to him right up to the end. He only killed him to get his hands on the Elder Wand."

"True. And we know where all the Death Eaters were after that: in the forest, watching him kill me."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. It still bothered her how blasé he was about what had happened to him that night.

Harry shrugged. "So if one of them did collect Snape from the Shrieking Shack that night, they didn't have any time to give him a proper burial. I wager they left him in the forest somewhere, thinking they'd come back to collect him later on, after they'd won. Only things didn't turn out that way."

"So you think his body might still be in the forest?"

"Well... I doubt it," Harry said, screwing his face up in a way that said Hermione wasn't going to like what he had to say. "Not with the place crawling with giant spiders and the like."

Now it was Hermione's turn to shiver. "Ugh, Harry!"

"It's just a fact of life, Hermione. I don't like it any better than you, but I'm pretty sure that's what must have happened."

"So, aside from us, there's no one who can say he actually died?" Hermione frowned.

"I guess not," Harry agreed. "Well, except whoever it was that removed his body from the Shack. But he was dead. Otherwise, how could his ghost be appearing to you now?"

"You're right," Hermione said slowly, although something in her tone didn't sound entirely convinced.

"Miss Granger!" Snape's voice caused Hermione to jump in surprise.

She turned to see him standing, semi-transparent, in the middle of the living room, his arms crossed and a well-known look of displeasure on his face.

"Oh, Harry, look, here he is!" She pointed at Snape, excited to have another witness.

Snape leaned down to peer at the fire. "Potter," he said, curling his lip.

"Professor Snape?" Harry's fire-image looked incredulous. "It's... nice to see you again, sir. I... I didn't have a chance to thank you. For your memories, and... all that stuff. So, thanks."

"It is gratifying to see that my efforts were not a complete waste," Snape drawled.

"Wow, this is pretty surreal," Harry said, running a fiery hand through his hair. "Um, Hermione? I think I'll just let you and Snape ... talk in private. And good luck with that portrait thing."

"Thanks, Harry. I'll keep you posted."

Hermione stood up, shaking out her numb legs. She felt unreasonably giddy at Snape's reappearance in her quarters. _Probably just light-headed from getting up too quickly_, she thought to herself. "I'm glad you were able to come back," Hermione said, trying to keep her voice neutral and professional. "I was afraid you'd gone for good when you went out the door. I don't suppose you were able to see where you went?"

"No," Snape said shortly. "My conscious memory remains restricted to these rooms. However," he added slowly, "I do have a vague impression that someone was ... singing ..."

Hermione rushed to her desk to find the notes she had started that morning. "Singing? What do you mean? Was the voice familiar? Could you make out any words, or was it more humming?"

"Please, Miss Granger! One question at a time. Singing, as I said. Not humming. I do not recall any words. As I said, it is more of an impression, not a clear memory. As to familiarity... I cannot say I recognized the voice. Female, I should say."

Hermione paused in her note-taking to look at Snape curiously. "Do you think... Might it be your mother, sir?" At Snape's startled expression, Hermione explained, "I'm just thinking out loud here... I've heard that when one dies, one is greeted by family and loved ones. Maybe your mother is trying to reach you, and you're trapped halfway between this world and the next."

Snape's mouth turned down in distaste. "If I am meant to spend the rest of eternity with my parents, I will gladly choose this half-existence instead."

Hermione felt a pang of sympathy, colored by her own now difficult relationship with her own parents. "I'm sorry, sir. Did you not get on well with your parents?"

"Surely Potter did not withhold the sordid details of my childhood memories from you?"

"He did say something about seeing you as a child, and you appearing unhappy," Hermione admitted, feeling uncomfortable now.

"Suffice it to say I was happier during my months at Hogwarts than at any other time of the year, despite the constant attacks from your precious Potter and Black, and not having any allies who wouldn't as soon stab me in the back as use my talents to further their own ends."

"Is that why you denied your part-Muggle background then? Because you had an unhappy home life?"

"I never denied that I was a half-blood!" Snape said indignantly. "Nor did I see any need to proclaim the fact publicly. It was to my advantage to let my Housemates, and others, assume what they wanted regarding my heritage. As with so much else, people generally only see what they want to anyway."

"I'm very sorry, Professor," Hermione said contritely. "I'm afraid I've been guilty of that as well. I wish I'd known all of this before you died. I wish we'd all known."

"Why, so you could pity me? Does it make you feel self-righteous and superior to be kind to an abused, friendless outcast?"

"I was never unkind to you," Hermione said in her defense.

"You consider setting me on fire, stealing from me, and blasting me across the Shrieking Shack to be kindness?" Snape snorted.

"That was- That was different!" Hermione said, feeling herself turn red. "I thought you were - See, that's exactly what I mean! If we'd known you were there to help Harry, we wouldn't have-"

"Did no one assure you there was nothing to fear from me? Dumbledore, perhaps? Molly Weasley? Not even Potter's old sidekick, Lupin?"

"I don't know- maybe - Oh, that's not fair!" She stamped her foot. "You're twisting things all around! I said I was sorry, and I meant it. Can't you accept that?"

Snape chuckled, an unpleasant, sarcastic laugh. "My, my. An apology from you and gratitude from Potter, all in one day. What's next? Will Weasley be offering to polish my silver? Oh, I forgot. You gave it to the poor."

"_I _did nothing of the sort, and I don't appreciate being lumped in with everyone you believe has ever slighted, insulted, or disrespected you."

"Why not?" Snape asked in mock surprise. "Now that we've established you have, in fact, done all three."

"Because I know you now! I only knew who you wanted the world to see, before, and you fooled me, along with everyone else. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I was a child. I only knew what I was told."

"And now, a few weeks later, you are suddenly an adult, the scales fallen from your eyes? You're barely what... seventeen?"

Hermione tossed her head defiantly. "I'm eighteen, and I'll be nineteen in less than a month. But it doesn't have to do with age as much as experience. And don't you say I'm not old enough to have the necessary experience. I grew up this past year, as did Harry and Ron. Don't pretend you know what we went through, because you don't, no more than I know what you went through last year, having to live here and witness the Carrows' cruelty."

Snape was silent for a moment, regarding Hermione. Then, quietly, he said, "Touché, Professor Granger."

A warm feeling spread through Hermione at the sign of respect. She huffed out a breath and straightened her robes. "All right then. Fine. Now. Maybe we can get back to figuring out your present situation." She consulted her notes, finding it a bit difficult to concentrate. Her pulse was still elevated from the heated exchange.

"Please do," Snape agreed. "Although I must say, I've come to the conclusion that there are worse situations than the one I currently find myself in."

"About that," Hermione said, tapping the list she'd created. "Looking at the evidence we've collected so far, I don't believe you're a ghost."

"The fact that I fade in and out in an arbitrary manner and am unable to manifest outside of these rooms does point toward that conclusion," Snape allowed.

"Which leaves us with the portrait theory." She looked up at Snape with a grin. "And I have good news. I've found your portrait."

"Wonderful. Where was it?"

"Right where it was supposed to be, up in the undercroft. One of the house-elves brought me up."

"I assume Minerva has the portrait in her office already and is setting things in motion to have the charms re-applied?"

"Oh, she will," Hermione assured Snape. "As soon as possible. As I've told you, she has a lot on her plate right now."

Snape, who had seemed calm and even amicable a moment ago, now showed the first signs of outrage. "And what of me in the meantime? Who knows but that I may fade out of existence altogether if we wait any longer? So much for the great show of solidarity," Snape said bitterly. "If it were Dumbledore or the great sainted Harry Potter whose portrait were disembodied, you can bet she would be setting every possible lever in motion to get things righted."

"It's not as easy as that," Hermione tried to explain. "The house-elves-" She was a bit embarrassed about mentioning it, knowing where the discussion would lead. "-They don't think your portrait is ready to be moved."

"Not ready? What nonsense is that?"

"It's what I was talking to Harry about when you appeared. It seems... I know this is ridiculous, but the elf I spoke to - Spats was his name - said the castle hasn't recognized you as dead yet. In fact, he suggested you were actually still alive... somewhere. And that if we moved your portrait, it would interfere with the castle's enchantments." Hermione cringed, ready for another tirade.

Instead, Snape turned and paced a few steps, rubbing his chin. "Interesting theory," he mumbled. "I presume you are ready to discount it out of hand?"

"Well- I just think- Sir, we saw you die in the Shrieking Shack. Harry and I were there when Voldemort instructed Nagini to attack you. We saw the bite, and the wounds you sustained. There was no way... I mean, that's why we left. Harry had to get to Voldemort, before he killed anyone else. We told them afterward where you were, of course. We just assumed Hagrid or Filch or someone would go and... collect you."

"And later, you saw me buried, attended my funeral," Snape pressed her.

"Well... no, not exactly," Hermione hedged.

Snape gave Hermione a hard look. "I understand. You did not see fit to pay your respects to me. But there were others... Minerva can vouch that I died. Kingsley. Slughorn."

"Sir, there was..." Hermione mumbled the next few words in a small voice. "There was never a funeral." She watched him nervously, wary of his reaction.

He remained surprisingly calm. "No. There wouldn't have been. Everyone was relieved to be done with me. I was not even accorded a final resting place in the Headmasters' plot, was I?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered truthfully. She felt now that she should know, that she should have asked someone where Snape was buried. But he was right. She had hardly wasted another thought on him after the Battle. There was so much else to do. So many other funerals. Dealing with her parents. Scrambling to take her NEWTs, to find a job. "But I'll find out," she promised. "Harry thought it likely, though - and this makes sense to me - he thought it was likely that one of the other Death Eaters took your body from the Shack and brought you to their gathering in the Forest. And then... well, I'm sorry, but you know they suffered terrible losses, and the rest were taken into custody. There probably wasn't anyone left to go back and get you." She tried to look at Snape steadily as she delivered this news. She felt he deserved to hear the truth.

Snape only nodded. "Yes. An ignominious end to an ignominious life. Thank you for your assistance, Professor Granger. I won't be bothering you again."

He moved toward the wall. As soon as Hermione realized what he was doing, she cried, "No, Professor! Wait!" Frantically, she tried to think of something that would keep him there. Her eye fell on the box of things from Professor McGonagall's office. "Here, your things. What about your things?" She picked up the box and held it out to him.

Snape stopped and regarded it with an empty expression. "Give it to Potter. He may dispose of the contents as he sees fit." Then he turned around again and faded into the wall.

Hermione was left standing alone in the middle of the room, the box heavy in her hands.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter song: Indigo Girls, "Closer to Fine"_

**Chapter 6**

Hermione spent the rest of the day up in the owlery, waiting for answers to the queries she'd sent out. She discovered that another distinct disadvantage of living below ground was that it was impossible for owls to make deliveries directly to her room. She used the time reading, both in preparation for the upcoming school year, and in some books on magical portraiture and Spectrology she'd borrowed from the library.

The first response was from Harry, inviting her to dinner at Grimmauld that night. Ron and Ginny would be there, too. Hermione felt a bit uncomfortable about the whole 'double-date' setup, but in the end decided it was more important for the three of them - herself, Harry, and Ron - to go back over what had happened that night at the Shrieking Shack.

The next message was from Kingsley, who wrote that Snape's offical status was 'missing, presumed dead', but that they would need either a body or his wand to declare him legally deceased. Only then could the Hogwarts Governors approve the placement of a headstone in the Hogwarts Headmasters' cemetery, or any other appropriate memorial gesture. This made Hermione feel a bit better: the lack of final resting place for Snape wasn't necessarily an oversight or a deliberate slight, but a bureaucratic delay. Annoying, but not intentional.

The last owl was the longest in coming. She was close to giving up for the day and going down to get ready for her visit when a small, completely black owl swooped in and emitted a sharp-pitched screech, unsettling all of the other birds perched up above. Hermione slipped on the leather gauntlet that hung on the wall and held out her hand for the bird to land on. Really, the Malfoys never did things halfway, she thought, admiring the rare owl's glossy, sable plumage as she took the note that was tied to its leg.

_'To the most worthy Miss Granger,_

I am indeed gratified you have taken an interest in the rehabilitation of our good Professor Snape's legacy. As it happens, I will be visiting Hogwarts castle tomorrow in my capacity as a Hogwarts Governor to oversee the progress of the repairs. I would be well inclined to meet with you to discuss our mutual friend.

I beg your indulgence in one point, however: as I am certain you are aware by now, the news having been widely reported in all the most respected media, I spent the greater part of the last year under the Imperius Curse, and thus have only a very spotty memory of many pertinent events. I beg your understanding and remain nevertheless,

Your most humble,

Lucius Malfoy'

_The old snake_, Hermione thought, noticing that he had neglected her academic title in his salutation. Still, he was agreeing to see her, and on her own turf. That was something.

She rolled the note up and stashed it in her pocket, then hurried downstairs to change before going to Harry's. She didn't think he'd really mind if she were late, but if she shook a leg, she could still make it before seven.

As she rushed through the living room, passing the window-picture with its pale pink-and-orange sunset, she lifted her teaching robes off and tossed them over the couch on her way to the bedroom. She already had her shirt over her head and was calling out the command to turn on the lights when she heard him.

"Professor Granger." His dark, rich voice sounded both amused and anxious. Hermione froze, her face still covered by her shirt, but her body most unfortunately not.

"Tell me that's not you. Please, tell me that's not you," Hermione moaned. "All right, you know what? It doesn't matter." She whipped the shirt off the rest of the way and stomped over to the wardrobe wearing only her bra. Snape was standing on the other side of the bed, his eyes wide. "You're a ghost. Or a portrait," she went on. "You're not really here. I'm terribly sorry to have to subject you to ... _this_," she said as she flipped through the items of clothing, "but this is actually my bedroom. What are you doing here anyway?" she asked, irritated.

"I beg to differ as to whose bedroom this 'actually' is," Snape sniffed, "but as we have already established, I have no control over where or when I appear. It so happens I found myself standing in the dark here moments before you came crashing in and exposed yourself so brazenly. What happened to knocking before entering?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Hermione muttered, trying to decide between a tight, sleeveless red blouse and a loose, frilly peasant top. "What do you think?" she asked, holding the two shirts up, then groaned. "What am I doing? I'm asking Snape for clothing advice. Right." She turned to the mirror and held up first one top, then the other.

"They are both vulgar and inappropriate, unless you are planning on wearing your teaching robes over them, in which case it hardly matters."

"The red one it is." Hermione pulled it over her head and fluffed her hair out. "I found out something this afternoon that might interest you," she said over her shoulder on the way to the bathroom. "Kingsley said you haven't actually been declared dead yet." She stopped in the doorway and leveled a hard look at Snape. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back. And you are _not _following me in here," she said, closing the door firmly, then locking it for good measure.

"Locking the door is futile and childish, Professor," Snape called to her. "We have established I can move through walls within these quarters. However, rest assured I have no desire to accompany you to the toilet."

"Ha!" came Hermione's muffled voice through the door.

She returned several minutes later, her hair piled up loosely with damp tendrils escaping down her neck, and one long, kinked strand hanging down from her left temple. She was disheartened at first to find the bedroom empty, but located Snape a moment later standing in the living room, once again perusing her bookshelves.

"There you are," she said, pausing to put her hands on her hips. "I thought you weren't going to come back, after that scene you made earlier."

Snape turned to stare at Hermione, his dark eyes raking her from head to foot. "As I've said, I don't seem to have any control over my appearances. Unlike you. Scandalous."

"What I'm wearing is perfectly proper, and I'd thank you to mind your own business regarding my attire."

"You've missed a piece. Of your hair," Snape expanded, pointing at his own temple.

Hermione reached up to feel the loose tendril. "I left it like that on purpose."

Snape frowned. "Why ever in Merlin's name would you do that?"

"I thought it looked fetching," Hermione said, trying not to pout.

"It looks slovenly."

"Then it's a good thing you won't have to look at me anymore this evening," she retorted. "I am dining out, and I am already quite late. I just wanted to let you know what Kingsley said, and that I'll be seeing Malfoy tomorrow. He's already hedged his bets by pleading the Imperius, but I'm hoping he'll still be able to give me some clues as to what happened to you at the end of the Battle."

"Malfoy? Lucius?"

"Yes, he's coming to the castle tomorrow. Would you like to see him? I could invite him down," Hermione offered.

"I have no great regard for Lucius Malfoy. I certainly don't need to expose myself to tiresome inquiries and taunts from him. I get quite my fill from you."

"No visitors, then," Hermione agreed. "Although I don't think you mind my inquiries _too _much, do you?" she asked with a smirk. "You could refuse to answer."

"As I said at the start," he said coolly, "I've decided cooperation with you is the shortest path to finally having my peace."

"Understood. I'm going to be off then. Would you like me to open a book for you? I could even set up a quick charm to turn the pages at regular intervals."

"I am quite certain I will be able to entertain myself. I am not a three-year-old," he growled.

Hermione shrugged. "Up to you. Oh," she added as she slipped into a pair of sandals by the door, "I know you said I should give Harry the box with your things, but I'm going to leave it here for the time being. Until we get you settled for good, anyway. It wouldn't feel right, somehow."

Snape grunted.

"I'm at Harry's if anyone calls," Hermione said, grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the mantel.

"I am not your secretary!" Snape shouted after her, but she was already spinning out of sight in a flare of green flames.

======

When Hermione returned, hours later, she was unsurprised to find Snape gone. Still, the rooms felt empty without him, and she made a point of leaving on all the lights as she set about getting ready for bed.

The evening had been something of a bust. None of the others were much interested in discussing Snape, despite it being Hermione's main reason for going. Harry and Ginny only had eyes for each other - although they never indulged in uncomfortable displays of affection - and Ron was so excited about beginning Auror training he couldn't talk of anything else. In the end, Hermione resigned herself to being a supportive friend and tried to put the thoughts and theories regarding Snape out of her head. However, Hermione being Hermione, when she got her teeth into a new project, it wouldn't let her go.

And so between listening to the boys quizzing each other on the thirteen and a half irregular regulations in the Auror Code of Practice, and Ginny waxing eloquent on the plans she had to redecorate Grimmauld, Hermione's mind drifted among the various discarded and imperfect theories she'd come up with to account for Snape's presence.

He wasn't a ghost, that much was clear. Or at least, not the typical embodiment of a dead person. The Spectrology text she'd read that afternoon catalogued a plethora of spiritual phenomena, most of which clearly did not apply to Snape's case. One of the sections, however, dealt with astral projections - specifically, how to communicate with the deceased by means of such. Hermione wondered if this were a reverse case, in which Snape was somehow managing to astrally project his spirit from the afterlife back to the mortal plane of existence. It might explain his seeming to 'flicker' in and out, and possibly also his apparent lack of continuous memory. The text said that some people were prone to episodes of unconscious astral projection which showed up as gaps in their memory. She would have to do more reading on the subject before discussing it with Snape.

Discussing it with Snape. There was a phrase she never thought she'd utter. She chuckled now, back in her bathroom, as she brushed her teeth. Since his visits to her quarters, she'd found herself completely revising her former opinions of him. Well, nearly so. She still thought he'd been a complete arse for no good reason a lot of the time - needing to show favoritism to Slytherin or not, he hadn't needed to intimidate and bully the students quite as much as he had. She suspected he had been letting out his frustrations at being stuck in a job he disliked, and later, after Voldemort arose again, his perhaps very real fears of being discovered and killed, on the nearest, easiest targets. As Minerva had said, though, she was finding that he was a good sort, deep down. He did have a conscience, and he had acted in the way he felt would protect the largest number of people.

He was interesting. She found herself wanting to know more, had the feeling that he could teach her things- not classroom things, but mysteries of life, alchemical secrets, keys to human nature. She hadn't come across that in a male of the species in... well, ever, really. Viktor had intrigued her at first in that way, as soon as she'd noticed the dichotomy between his ungainly appearance and his physical skill bordering on the savant, if one could apply that term to a physical gift. Then she'd discovered that he had a brain, too, and that had opened up new depths of exploration. But the novelty had worn off when she'd discovered that his interests didn't go much beyond those of other boys his age, aside from his profound grasp of mathematical abstractions which, to be quite honest, were of little interest to Hermione.

Now, Hermione wanted to find out where Snape really stood on subjects like the blood purity question. Even if he did turn out to be a blood purist, his views were certain to be more unique (and well-reasoned) than those usually cited. She wanted to know if he had been pursuing any personal research in his private lab. What he would have done with his life, had Voldemort not thrown a spanner in the works. And so on. And she had the feeling he was warming up to her, despite his derisive comments and gruff manner. In a way, he was almost acting protective toward her, she mused, re-considering his disdainful remarks regarding her hair and clothes in a different light.

Or maybe he was just still being an arse.

Hermione changed into her nightclothes - the baggy ones - in the bathroom, not wanting to offend Snape's sensiblities if he should pop up unexpectedly. Strangely, it didn't really bother her that he had seen her half-undressed earlier. She wore less than that to the beach.

Hermione got into bed and extinguished the bedroom light, then lay in the dark for a while, straining her ears and imagining she heard Snape moving about in the other room.

"Professor?" she called out softly. "Are you there?" She waited, but there was no answer.

_Author's note: Completely black owls, referred to as 'melanistic' (the opposite of albino) are extremely rare. Most melanistic owls are not actually fully black, but merely evince an overall darker coloring, or may have mostly black feathers interspersed with brown or white. _


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter song: __Chiodos, "_Closed Eyes Still Look Forward_"_

**Chapter 7**

The next morning, Hermione was pleased to find Snape standing in front of the window-picture out in her living room when she emerged from her morning toilet. She'd taken longer than was usual for her, it being awkward to wash so much hair under the tap in the bathtub.

"Good morning, Professor," she said with a friendly smile. "Have you been here long?"

Snape scowled. "Lie-a-bed. The sun's been up for over an hour."

Hermione came over to admire the landscape. The sun shone in orange shafts over the nearby mountains, and the grounds below were still covered in a thick mist. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Hermione said.

Snape grunted, which Hermione took as agreement he was too embarrassed to admit to. They continued to watch the scene, the mists barely perceptibly shifting and thinning as the warmth of the morning rays dissipated them.

"I'll be seeing Malfoy later today," Hermione finally said, when the silence became pressing.

"We have established that my memory of events within these rooms is impeccable."

"Do you have any advice for me? The last time I saw him, I was being tortured by his sister-in-law in his drawing room," Hermione said, her voice becoming thin. "I'm not quite sure what the etiquette books say about that."

The corners of Snape's lips turned down, and his nostrils flared while he continued to stare straight ahead at the magical window. "You will have him at a disadvantage. You are a witness to his guilt. He will want to give you something to assuage his conscience. But he will never admit it. Let it seem as if you want much more, but will settle for this small concession."

"It may be that he really doesn't know anything," Hermione pointed out.

"He will do anything to rid himself of this obligation to you. He will either give you the information himself, or offer to put you in touch with someone else, who in turn may or may not know something helpful."

"I won't give up until we have closure for you," Hermione promised. "You deserve at least that much."

Snape had no answer to that. After a bit, he asked in a low voice, "Was it the Cruciatus?"

Hermione nodded, understanding that he was referring to her torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. "Yes."

"Do you still experience... aftereffects?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "Sometimes. Just a twinge. In my back." In fact, sometimes the 'twinge' kept her paralyzed with pain for several seconds.

"I created a nerve relaxant potion which I found useful. Unfortunately, it has disappeared along with everything else I kept in my private stock here. Perhaps it found its way into Poppy's stores. There was no label. It was in a blue flask."

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly. "I'll make sure to ask her." Her stomach took the brief silence then as a cue to growl loudly.

"I guess I should be getting up to breakfast," Hermione said with a rueful smile. "I'm going to be busy working most of the day. I need to get my classroom set up. I'll be sure to come down and report on what I find out from Malfoy. Feel free to... make yourself at home," she added, feeling a bit foolish, as this had been his home before it was hers.

"I won't be here long, if you are leaving. I do not seem to be able to remain here when you are absent," Snape informed her.

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "Really? How curious. So last night..."

"After you left, I remained here for a brief time. A couple of minutes at most. Following that, I recall nothing until I re-appeared here this morning."

"And I've rarely been here without you appearing, either," she said, experiencing that familiar feeling of excitement when pieces began falling into place. "I wonder if that's a clue. You appear whenever there is a living person here."

"I did not appear when Minerva cleaned these rooms out," Snape pointed out.

"Maybe there was some other trigger then, something that called you back, that only began after Minerva had been here. Maybe she removed something important, or disturbed something. Something in your box, maybe?" Hermione jumped over to the small chest she'd left on the table, thoughts of breakfast forgotten, putting her hands behind her back to stop herself from opening it right away.

Snape moved over next to her. "I can hardly imagine what." He gave her an odd look. "Go ahead, then, open it! You look as if you're about to burst with curiosity."

"Are you sure it's all right? I don't want you to think I'm taking liberties with your things."

"I've said you may open it! That was one thing I always detested about teaching: having to repeat myself constantly."

Hermione carefully undid the catch and swung the lid open. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but the actual contents didn't look very exciting. Just some papers and odds and ends. She took them out one by one and laid them carefully on the table.

"That was my first wand," Snape said to the first item. "We couldn't afford one from Ollivanders, so my mother scrounged one up from some acquaintance of hers or other. It never worked properly for me. Slughorn saw to it that I got a new one in my second year. I had to make sure to take the old one home with me over the holidays, though, so she wouldn't know."

Hermione didn't probe further. The next item was familiar: a broad, green, Slytherin scarf. Not one of the long, striped ones that the students wore in the winter, but one of the old, cravat-style ones that were worn with formal robes.

"We used to have to earn those," Snape remarked. "You couldn't just owl-order them from Madam Malkin's. I didn't get one until fifth year. Malfoy got one as a first-year, of course."

Something golden glinted down in the corner of the box. Hermione reached in and extracted a plain gold ring. She recognized it as a wedding band immediately. Her heart began thumping hard in her chest. Had Snape been married?

"That was my mother's," Snape announced, putting an end to Hermione's train of thought. "She took it off when my father died, and kept it in a box on her dresser. She never got over the fact that their marriage failed. I think she mourned the marriage more than she mourned him personally. Then, when she died a couple of years ago, I didn't know whether to have her buried with it or not. I thought if she'd wanted it, she would have worn it, if only around her neck. On the other hand, she never threw it out. I couldn't bring myself to, either. And I suppose Minerva fell victim to the same sentimentality."

"Maybe she thought it was yours," Hermione suggested. "I mean, your wedding band. Maybe she thought you'd been married. I thought it was yours, just now," Hermione explained, shyly.

Snape snorted. "I spent barely a day out of Minerva McGonagall's sight from the day I set foot in Hogwarts, apart from holidays, of course. Believe me, I couldn't have hidden a secret wife from her." He regarded Hermione with a measured look. "But I am... oddly flattered you thought I might have married at some point. What did you think happened to my proposed wife?"

Hermione was irritated at his poking fun at her. "I didn't think that far. It was only for a moment anyway, until you explained." She reached into the box again, this time pulling out a piece of paper that was torn in half.

Snape leaned over to read it, then stood up abruptly, sniffed, and walked away.

"Burn that," he said shortly.

"What is it?" Hermione said, resisting the urge to read it without his permission.

"I said burn it!" he shouted. "What did I just say about repeating myself?"

"It might be something important," Hermione hedged. "You kept it for some reason, after all."

Snape stalked back to Hermione and put his face so close to hers she would have felt his breath, had he had any.

"Fine," he hissed. "Do what you want with it. It means nothing to me. Burn all of it!"

With an angry wave of his hand and an exclamation of frustration, he tried to sweep everything off the table, to no effect.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to burn your things," Hermione said as she gathered everything back up and put it back into the box. "Something's upset you, but when you've calmed down -"

"Do not treat me like a child!" Snape roared, clenching his fists and pounding them against his forehead in frustration.

"Then don't act like one!" Hermione said firmly. She punctuated her statement by snapping the lid shut. "I know this is a difficult situation for you, not being able to do anything yourself, but you don't need to take it out on me. I am going up to breakfast now. I expect to have some news for you when I return, after I've seen Malfoy."

But Snape had retreated to the corner and demonstratively turned his back on Hermione.

"Things are going to get better soon, Professor," she said more gently. "Just hold on a little while longer. I promise."

======

At breakfast, Hermione asked Professor McGonagall if she'd been able to get the portrait moved out of storage yet.

"Not yet, Hermione," Minerva said, sounding slightly harried. "It doesn't do us any good to have the portrait downstairs without anyone able to check the charms on it, and if necessary re-cast them. I need to get the artist to come to Hogwarts personally, and I promise I'll send him an owl today. As soon as I'm done with this dreadful inspection by the Governors." She shuddered.

Minerva held a staff meeting after breakfast so that all of the professors, House heads, and other staff could brief her on any progress being made in their areas, in preparation for the Governors' visit. Hermione felt decidedly odd sitting around the table with so many of her former professors and other adults who had been in positions of authority over her only a few months earlier. She felt slightly naughty, as if she'd crashed the meeting and it was only a matter of time before someone called her out.

No one did, though, and following the meeting, Hermione and Professor Vector went up to the classroom they would be sharing, to discuss scheduling, logistics, the arrangement of furnishings, and so on. She was tempted to tell the Arithmancy professor about Professor Snape, but for some reason refrained from doing so. It seemed like the sort of thing Snape wouldn't want spread around; at least not until he had been properly returned to his portrait, or whatever the solution turned out to be.

The Governors were scheduled to arrive after lunch. Only the Headmistress, the House heads, and Mr. Filch were included in the tour, but Hermione wanted to get a glimpse of Malfoy before she had to see him one-on-one, in order to prepare herself mentally. Feeling even more like a naughty schoolgirl than she had during the staff meeting, she settled herself behind a column on a landing above the entrance hall, and cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself for good measure.

The Governors arrived in a group - all twelve of them - but it didn't take any time at all for Hermione to spot Malfoy's white-blond head in their midst. He looked thinner than she remembered, his aquiline nose now nearly as prominent as Snape's own hooked one. He was still a flamboyant dresser, though, and Hermione could fairly see the velvet on his cape shimmering even from her vantage point.

Once everyone had divested themselves of their cloaks and capes, the Headmistress ushered the group into the Great Hall to begin the tour with a welcome speech, and Hermione emerged from her hiding place. She wished there were someone she could discuss last-minute strategy with, but she didn't feel up to another row with Snape. The man was in turns infuriating and fascinating. He was making it exceedingly difficult to help him, but there was something about him that made her not want to give up yet.

It went beyond merely wanting to have her rooms to herself, or seeing justice done. In her conversations with him, despite his bristly exterior, she sensed a loneliness in him. He was someone who yearned for companionship but didn't know how to go about getting it; or even more, had yet to admit to himself that he desired it. He said he wanted only to be left alone, yet the fact that he kept returning to her quarters only when she was there had to mean something. She didn't flatter herself to think it had anything to do with her personally; the same thing would have happened if Dawlish or Professor Trelawney had been quartered there instead. Although the thought of Professor Snape barging in on the Divination professor in her skivvies sent Hermione into a spasm of giggles.

In order to distract herself and calm her nerves, Hermione decided to take a walk around the grounds. It was a pleasant late summer's day, with a gentle breeze that kept her from working up a sweat as she walked. Invigorated by the fresh air after spending so many days indoors - many of those hours below ground - Hermione extended her stroll and soon found herself on the familiar path to Hogsmeade village.

Rebuilding was well underway here as well, with stacks of stones lying ready for a Magimason to charm them in place, and piles of debris left next to the street, waiting to be Evanescoed. She had no particular need of anything from the shops, and having just eaten lunch less than an hour before, didn't feel like going into any of the pubs, so she contented herself with walking down the main street, greeting the occasional shopkeeper or resident she recognized from earlier visits, or from the Battle, and acquainting herself with the newest articles in the shop windows. Having spent so much of the past year spent on the run and in hiding, she felt a bit as if she had gone through a time warp.

Mindful of the time and not wanting to miss her appointment with Malfoy, Hermione was about to start back when she caught a glimpse of that familiar, old, run-down building on the edge of town, and before she knew it, her feet were carrying her down the path to the Shrieking Shack.

She wondered why it was actually still standing, and who owned it. It was unusual for a piece of property to remain empty and unimproved for so long. It was likely that it had belonged to the school, at least back when Lupin was a student. It would have been the only way to guarantee a safe place for him to transform. But after he left school, why had Hogwarts held onto it? Perhaps Dumbledore expected more werewolves to come - and perhaps they had, Hermione realized. She had no way of knowing how many other werewolves had been educated at Hogwarts under Dumbledore in the intervening years. It might even still be in use today. She couldn't help but be intrigued at the thought that one of her fellow students might have been a werewolf.

That was neither here nor there, though. She stopped at the fence bordering the property and looked at the weathered, gray siding, the peeling paint and dilapidated roof. If it did belong to the school, and if it was really being kept as a 'safe' place for werewolves to transform without harming themselves and others, did it need to be in such a state? She realized that the townspeople probably wouldn't willingly agree to host transformed werewolves in their midst, and that the property was better accepted under the ruse of being abandoned and perhaps haunted. But this was nearly the twenty-first century! Surely with the proper precautions, and the implementation of Wolfsbane, a place could be provided for werewolves to transform without danger to anyone and still maintain their dignity.

Hermione creaked open the gate and approached the old house. The windows were dark, as if it were nighttime inside, and huge spider webs draped down from every eave. Really, as long as they were rebuilding everywhere else, would it take that much more effort to pitch in and give this place a facelift? She knew Minerva had more than enough on her plate at the moment, but she meant to mention it to her.

In order to form a better picture of the state of the property, and estimate how much work would need to be done inside, Hermione mounted the steps, taking note of the missing boards, and found that the front door was not even locked - she shook her head at that; merely the rumor of ghosts would hardly keep curious townspeople out during the full moon.

Inside, it was another world. The smell, the dim lighting...Hermione was instantly transported back to that night during the Battle. She hadn't consciously made the connection on approaching, hadn't thought it could hit her so hard. She lit her wand to dispel the images, but even then could fairly hear Voldemort's unearthly voice, feel the vibration of Snape's body hitting the floor. Knowing that for her own sanity, she should leave this place, she nevertheless found herself inexorably drawn to the room where it had happened. The door was standing ajar - had they left it like that when they removed Snape's body? She pointed her light at the floor, and could see a slightly darker path in the dust, leading from this room to the front door. Inside the room, the floor was full of swirls and patterns where the dust had been disturbed by many feet.

And there, unmistakable, covering a good half of the floor, was a huge dark stain: Snape's blood. Had no one been in to clean it up? Hermione wondered with disgust and affront. She lifted her wand to perform a cleaning spell, then hesitated; maybe there was a reason it had been left? Or maybe it was impossible to remove, having been caused by Dark magic. She kept her wand up in a defensive posture, made uneasy by the evidence of Snape's murder, and took an uncertain step back. In doing so, she stepped on something small and round, and nearly fell over.

She bent over, holding her wand close to the ground, and saw a small brownish cylinder, about an inch and a half long. A cork from a bottle of butterbeer. There were several others as well, scattered back against the wall. Hermione picked up the one she had stepped on. It was bad enough that no one saw fit to maintain the property, or even clean up out of respect for the victim after such a brutal murder... but apparently the town's youth were now sneaking in and having parties. Absently, she pocketed the cork. It was high time she got back to Hogwarts.

As she walked, she became more and more worked up. Yes, there were many things that needed urgent attention in order to open Hogwarts on time for the start of term. Yes, the way the Ministry and the Governors had structured things, there were too few people with too many responsibilities. Yes, the living needed to look forward and improve the world they had been left with. But, she couldn't help thinking, Snape was also just one case. How many more bodies had been lost? How many more crime scenes were left abandoned? How many more treasured possessions had simply been disposed of or boxed up and forgotten?

By the time she arrived back at the castle, she was no longer nervous about meeting with Malfoy. In fact, she had worked up enough righteous indignation to confront not only him but the rest of the Governors as well with all of the injustices she had uncovered and demand what exactly they were going to do about them. However, she realized it wouldn't be prudent to make new accusations at this time, not if she hoped to achieve her original goal of recovering Snape's body. And so she resolved to remain calm and inoffensive, and to follow Snape's advice and let Malfoy think he was doing her a favor and repaying a debt.

Hermione found that she was just in time; as she entered the main hall, the Headmistress was leading the Governors and their entourage down the stairs, apparently at the conclusion of their rounds.

Malfoy broke off from the group when they reached the ground floor and approached Hermione with a look of insincere pleasure on his face.

"Miss Granger!" he effused. "I'm so pleased you contacted me. It is indeed fortuitous that I find myself able to accommodate you so quickly. It would have been _inconvenient _had you needed to come to the Manor, n'est-ce pas?" He smirked.

"Quite," Hermione agreed frostily. She wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily this time. "I assume the Headmistress did not mention changing her mind about my employment in the course of the afternoon?"

Malfoy was caught off-guard. "Pardon?"

"I'm certain the Governors were informed of my appointment to the post of Muggle Studies Professor."

"Yes, of course," Malfoy said testily, looking around at the other Governors, who were loudly taking their leave from one another, but not so loudly as to be unable to overhear their conversation.

"I must have misheard you then - and misread your note. I seem to have missed the title 'Professor'."

Malfoy appeared to be maintaining his facade only with difficulty.

"No doubt my hearing and vision were compromised by the _tortures _I was subjected to during the course of the recent unpleasantness," Hermione said as sweetly as possible.

Malfoy scowled. "I presume you have prepared a quiet corner where we can speak without being disturbed?" he asked pointedly.

She hadn't, but in a castle the size of Hogwarts, there was always an unused room to be had. "This way," Hermione said, leading him to the chamber off the main hall which usually served as the staging area for the first-years before the Sorting.

"I don't know what you think you're playing at-" Malfoy began, as soon as the door was closed behind them.

"I'm not _playing _at anything, _Mr._ Malfoy," Hermione interrupted him. "I am merely pointing out the respect which is due the office - if you cannot bring yourself to respect the person."

The corners of Malfoy's mouth turned up in a thin smile. "Respect is only due to those that deserve it."

"Are you saying - as a Hogwarts Governor - that a professorship is not worthy of respect?"

"Come now, Miss -" He rolled his eyes as Hermione opened her mouth again. "All right, if you insist, _Professor _Granger. Muggle Studies? Really," he drawled in derision.

"And yet the Governors still see fit to endow the position. Odd, that."

"Hmm, yes. A change may indeed be in order," he mused. "Is that what this is about? But how tedious. I thought we were going to discuss a mutual friend of ours."

"Professor Snape, yes. There is actually a matter I would be very interested to hear your opinion on. But the other is important, too. It all comes down to the very thing we've been speaking of: respect."

"I always had the greatest respect for Snape. If only I'd known he was working for Dumbledore all along, the two of us might have been able to pool our resources much earlier. But he had me fooled, along with everyone else," Malfoy finished with a show of regret.

"So everyone in Voldemort's camp thought Snape was one of them? There was no question?"

"How else was he able to worm his way into the Dark Lord's good graces, and remain there for so many years? It is true: my poor, deluded sister-in-law questioned his loyalty many times, but then she was out of her mind," he said sadly, his gaze lingering on Hermione's face. "Quite mad. Can't be held accountable. No doubt that would all have come out, had she lived long enough to be treated..." He let the words dangle there meaningfully.

Hermione refused to be side-tracked, although the man's effrontery made her blood boil.

"We're speaking of Snape," Hermione reminded him - and herself. "It has come to my attention that no one quite seems to know what happened to his body. Apparently, by the time someone from our side was able to get to the Shrieking Shack, he had disappeared."

Malfoy merely raised his eyebrows. "How awkward," he commented. "I do hope you're not accusing me of body snatching?"

"'Accuse' is such a harsh word," Hermione said. "But did you? Remove Snape's body? Perhaps put it somewhere else, 'for safe keeping'?" she bored further.

"Professor Granger, I am insulted," he said, twitching his robes so that they flared out around him. "Severus Snape is a war hero. The mere suggestion that I would want to deprive him of the proper respect due him- I've a good mind to end this audience right now." He glared down at her.

"I'm not suggesting that at all, and I beg pardon if it came out that way," she gritted out. "But as you said, you were under the thumb of a very powerful, Dark wizard. I believe you mentioned something about the _Imperius_. If you did - hypothetically - have something to do with spiriting the body away, perhaps intending even to preserve it from desecration..." Surely she'd given him enough excuses to choose from now!

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her, thinking. Finally, he said, "I have no memory of doing so. However, as you say, it is possible that such a scenario as you suggest took place ... Out of the respect and deep admiration I have for Professor Snape - Headmaster Snape - I will make some inquiries. Many of the potential witnesses are, unfortunately, incarcerated... It may take some time."

"I'm sure Professor Snape would appreciate it- If he could, I mean," Hermione added, trying to cover up her near flub.

"What is your interest in this, anyway? I'm certain there was no love lost between yourself and Snape. In fact, if I recall correctly, there was a particular animosity between him and your precious Potter."

"I just want to see justice done," Hermione said vaguely, counting on that being a Gryffindorish enough answer to put Malfoy off inquiring further.

Malfoy regarded Hermione for a moment longer than necessary, before saying coolly, "Yes, well. As I said, I'll see what I can do. And now I really must be off. I've already missed the train back to London." He moved to the door, the audience clearly over.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said. "And do give my regards to Draco and your wife. I know they tried to help as best they could." This last part she even meant sincerely; she knew Draco had done his best not to identify them at the Manor, and Harry had told them how Narcissa had flat out lied to Voldemort in the forest, in order to protect him.

Malfoy merely gave Hermione a side-long, suspicious glance, and took his leave.

Hermione sighed and followed him out. Some things would never change.

_Author's note: Mmm... loves me some Lucius. He's just so fun to play with. _


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter song: Mojofly, "Close to the End"_

**Chapter 8**

Hermione went directly down to her quarters after her audience with Malfoy. Her heart was still beating at an accelerated rate, and her shoulders were bunched up with tension. She wasn't sure whether she believed him or not. She had the feeling he knew something, but was seeking an angle that would put him at an even greater advantage before revealing it. She was really no good at this feinting and parrying, she thought unhappily as she reached her door. She reached up to knock perfunctorily before opening it, and in doing so sent a twinge of pain shrieking down from the nape of her neck to the middle of her back.

She winced and twisted her head to the side as she slipped inside, diving for the momentary relief of prostrating herself on the couch to wait out the tremor.

"A most unladylike display," she heard Snape say in a disapproving tone.

Hermione groaned, both in annoyance and pain. His appearance had been extraordinarily fast this time, if indeed he hadn't been there already. "Shut up," she whispered, not meaning for him to hear it, but feeling overwhelmed by her feelings of pain and disappointment. She tried to muster the forbearance for going another round with him.

"I take it Malfoy got the better of you," he concluded snootily. "I knew you would be no match for him."

Hermione turned halfway over to look at Snape, keeping her neck stiff. "Give me a minute, would you?" she said with exaggerated politeness. "It's his sister-in-law who got the better of me, and I think she's reaching out from hell right now to remind me of my place."

Snape's expression changed immediately from derision to consternation. "Did you find the potion I told you of?"

"No, strangely, I didn't have time to fit that into my schedule today. What with staff meetings, work, visiting the Shrieking Shack, and having a delightful little chat with Malfoy to cap it all off." Hermione sat up slowly as the throbbing in her back lessened.

"Do not attempt to exert yourself," Snape advised. "I recommend remaining supine for fifteen minutes, at least."

"It never lasts that long," Hermione said, irritated at appearing weak in front of him. She rolled her shoulders to loosen them up.

"No wonder it is taking you so long to recover then," he snapped. "Every time you suffer an episode, you are re-injuring the nerves by taxing them too soon. Did you not consult a Healer?"

"I've had other things to think about the past few weeks!" Hermione snapped back. "And anyway, it's not so bad," she added, too embarrassed to admit that he was right.

"Suit yourself," Snape said, although it was clear he did not condone her choice.

Hermione capitulated in so far as she remained on the couch with her head leaning back on the cushions. "Now, would you like to hear about my meeting with Malfoy, or would you rather continue scolding me?"

Snape harrumphed and crossed his arms. "It's clear you're only going to do what you want anyway."

Hermione couldn't help a grin escaping. "I think you're catching on. Now, sit down and-" She stopped herself and cringed at the faux pas. "I mean, make yourself comfortable... however you'd like..." She trailed off.

Snape merely glared down his nose at her.

Hermione sighed and launched into a recitation of her interview with Malfoy. "I don't know if he's trying to cover up for himself, or someone else, or if he really doesn't know anything," she concluded. "So I guess you were right in saying he got the better of me."

"I didn't really expect anything more," Snape sniffed. "You have no experience dealing with the likes of him."

"I think I held my own rather well," Hermione said, hurt. "What would you have done?"

"Insist on a contract signed in blood," he replied, and Hermione couldn't tell whether he was joking or not. "As it is, all you extracted from him was a vague offer of aid which you have no means of enforcing, or establishing the veracity thereof. Your problem is, you assume everyone is as well-meaning and honorable as you. A common Gryffindor fault."

Hermione threw her arms up in the air. "Well, I do the best I can with what I've got!"

Snape regarded Hermione curiously, then said, "Yes, well, I don't suppose there's much more you can do at the moment. The parting comment about Narcissa and Draco was a nice touch, however."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, confused, as she had only meant the compliment literally and sincerely.

"You reminded him not only that his family's welfare depends in large degree on Potter's favor, but that both his wife and child all but publicly declared their loyalty to Potter's side long before he did, and in a much more sincere and believable manner. He has a lot of ground to make up."

"Maybe I should go to Azkaban myself and track down everyone who was in the forest that night."

Snape shook his head. "You have clearly never been to Azkaban. I would not speak of visiting the place blithely."

"But if it can help you-"

Snape silenced her with a look. "I believe I have expressed to you once my appreciation for your assistance in this matter. But there are things I would not wish even you subjected to."

Hermione was both confused and flattered by his statement, and found herself having to look away under the force of his gaze. She began fidgeting with her robes in her nervousness, and her fingers found their way to the cork she had picked up in the Shrieking Shack.

"What is that?" Snape asked, perhaps to bridge the awkward silence that had descended.

Hermione snorted. "A cork from a Butterbeer bottle. I picked it up in the Shrieking Shack. Can you believe the local kids are actually using it as a place to sneak away to?"

"Whatever in the world were you doing in that place?" Snape asked incredulously.

"I don't know; nothing really," Hermione said, uncomfortable about admitting she had visited the place he had been murdered.

"I will not have you putting yourself in danger in pursuit of this insignificant inquiry!"

"I didn't mean to go in," Hermione tried to explain. "I just sort of found myself there. I'm sorry, really and truly sorry. I saw the room-" She turned away, ashamed.

"-where the Dark Lord ended my life," Snape finished for her, his voice dark but not accusing.

"Yes," she whispered. "It was- It hadn't even been cleaned up! I didn't know- Well, I left it like it was," she admitted miserably. "I thought it might be important... for evidence... But now I think no one's even thought of it since... Someone has to do something." She forced herself to look him in the eye. "_I'll_ do something. I'll send an owl to Kingsley right away. The Aurors should come, secure the place." She moved to get up.

"It can wait," Snape said, more gently than she thought she had ever heard him speak. "Fifteen minutes, remember."

Although she was certain that fifteen minutes had already passed from the time she'd entered the room, she didn't argue, instead continuing to fidget with the bottle cork.

Snape stared at it for a moment, then, squinting down at it, asked, "May I see that for a moment? There's something oddly familiar..."

Hermione was a bit bewildered, but held the cork up so that Snape could inspect it more closely. She peered at it herself, turning it between her fingers.

"There is a hole in it," Snape finally announced, straightening up again.

"A hole?" Hermione tried to figure out his meaning. Of course there were holes in it; it was made of cork!

"Look there-" He reached out and pointed to the top. "And a matching hole in the opposite end."

Hermione looked more closely. He was right. There, a small, perfectly round hole, obviously intentionally made, and, as Snape said, another one on the bottom. She thought back to the several other, similar corks she had left lying on the floor of the Shack. Getting that delicious feeling of excitement at being hot on the trail of a promising lead, Hermione leapt up, disregarding her intention to be more careful with her back, and went to her desk, rummaging around among the writing implements and other office supplies.

"What are you looking for?" Snape asked.

"A paper clip! Why haven't wizards caught on to paper clips yet!" she moaned.

"A stirring rod, elongated and thinned, may do the job as well," Snape suggested, moving to stand next to her.

She paused and looked at him; obviously he had the same idea as she did. A moment of mutual understanding and appreciation passed between them.

However, "I haven't one of those handy," she had to remind him.

"A hairpin, then? Or do you never do anything to tame that mess?"

Hermione pursed her lips at the taunt, but stomped off to the bathroom. She came back a moment later with a piece of bent metal decorated with sparkling crystals. "I wore it at Bill and Fleur's wedding," she explained sheepishly.

"It looks like it will do the job," Snape commented, his eyes flickering to her admittedly rather wild mane.

Hermione resisted the temptation to run her hand over her hair, and instead concentrated on very carefully sliding the end of the hairpin into the hole in one end of the cork. It went in easily, and poked out the other end without meeting any resistance.

Hermione looked at Snape, her heart beating in excitement. "There were others. I don't know how many. Enough to -"

"-make a necklace?"

======

Maybe she should have taken Harry with her. Or Ron, or Ginny, or anyone, really. She was just in such a hurry, and it was already late, the sun beginning its descent behind the trees to the west. She ran lightly down the hill she'd Apparated onto, heading for the forlorn-looking tower-like structure at its base.

The Lovegoods' house, as Ron had once said, resembled a rook from a chess set. The last time Hermione was there, the top half had been blown away in an Erumpent horn explosion, and she herself had blasted a hole in what remained of the ground-floor ceiling, effectively completing the cave-in. Now, it looked as if none of that had happened. Smoke was puffing contentedly out of the crooked chimney sticking out the side of the building, and even the ivy climbing the walls looked as if it had been there for decades.

She very much hoped that Mr. Lovegood didn't hold it too much against her that she had materially contributed to the destruction of his house; after all, it appeared they had recovered quite nicely. She took a deep breath and rapped at the eagle door knocker. As she strained her ears to listen for movement inside, she thought she caught a few notes of a high voice crooning a tuneless melody. Luna, no doubt. She hadn't seen the girl since Fred's funeral, but then she'd never really been friends with her, she comforted her guilty conscience. Luna had been closest to Harry or Ginny, if anyone. Yes, perhaps she should have brought one of them along...

She was brought out of her musings by the door being flung open, and Xenophilius Lovegood staring down at her, his bulging eyes reminiscent of his daughter's. He had a contraption on his head that looked like a cross between a diamond cutter's eyepiece and a Viking helmet, with rather more than two horns.

"And who have we here?" he asked, squinting out into the deepening dusk. Without warning, the attachments on his headgear began swivelling around, one of them directing a beam of light at Hermione and another positioning itself over the wizard's eye so he could examine her through it.

She shielded her eyes with one hand as she said, "It's me, Mr. Lovegood: Hermione Granger. We met last year- at Bill and Fleur's wedding," she amended, not wanting to remind him of the fiasco with the Ministry employees.

The helmet began beeping and tweeting, until Xenophilius reached up and twisted one of the horns to stop it.

"Ah yes, Hermione Granger. Luna's literal-minded friend. Well, Waldo here says you're all right," he announced cryptically, but he stood back to allow her to come in.

"Thank you," Hermione said, trying not to stare at him too hard. It turned out not to be difficult, as, once inside, her attention was diverted by the fact that everything in the perfectly round kitchen had been painted white: floor, walls, ceiling, table, chairs, cupboards; even the kettle on the stove, the pots hanging from the ceiling, and the clock on the wall were completely white. Hermione felt more than a little disoriented. From somewhere up above, she could hear the odd, off-key singing continuing.

"Is, erm... is Luna here?" she asked, wondering whether she should take off her shoes to avoid soiling the floor.

"Yes, of course," Xenophilius said. A single red light on his helmet blinked steadily, like a timepiece. Hermione watched it for several seconds before finally tearing her eyes away. "Go on, try another one," he said encouragingly.

"Another what?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Another question, of course," Xenophilius said.

"All right..." Hermione said slowly. "Do you think I might see Luna?" She tried hard to keep her tone polite.

Xenophilius nodded his head thoughtfully. "Yes, yes, I believe you _might_... I'm afraid I'm rather horrible at these Divination type of questions, though," he said with a frown. "Now I have one for you. What color is the number thirteen?" He watched her expectantly.

Now it was Hermione's turn to frown. "I'm sure I don't know. It hasn't any color, as far as I know."

Xenophilius sighed in resignation, as if he had expected her to say that. "I'll let her know you're here," he said and went up the white spiral staircase in the middle of the room.

Hermione stood there awkwardly, uncertain whether she should take a seat or not. Shortly, the singing stopped, and Hermione looked up to see Luna descending the stairs alone. She was wearing multicolored robes - or rather, as she came closer, Hermione saw her outfit was composed of pieces of several different robes somehow tied together.

"Hello, Hermione," Luna said in her customary airy voice, once she had reached the floor. She looked much as Hermione remembered her: long, blonde hair falling loosely down her back; her wand stuck behind her ear; intense, blue eyes; a vaguely hopeful expression.

"Hi, Luna," Hermione started off cheerfully. "How have you been?"

"Sad, quite often," Luna informed her without blinking. "And also happy, sometimes. I had a cold for about a week back in July, and I got rather a deep cut on my foot when Daddy and I were putting on the roof."

Hermione's eyes involuntarily sought out Luna's feet, but they were hidden beneath the hem of her robes.

"Oh, it's all right now," Luna assured her, sticking out one bare foot as proof.

"That's good," Hermione said, not having expected quite such a thorough answer when she'd posed the question. "Erm, Luna," she went right on, before Luna could elaborate any further on 'how she'd been', "I wondered if we might not have a little chat."

Luna's face opened up in a genuine smile. "Oh, yes! I'd like that! We hardly have any visitors, you know. In fact, you're the first one, since I've been back. We can have tea and cake and everything." She began flitting about the pristine kitchen, getting out white cups and plates, and from the icebox a white platter with half a white cake on it. With a flick of her wand, she set the tea kettle to heating, then sat down at the white table, folded her hands before her, and looked placidly up at Hermione.

"Is it all right if I sit down?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Luna said. "I thought you preferred to stand."

"No," Hermione said as she pulled out a chair. "I was just afraid of making anything dirty. Everything is very... white."

"Oh, I just haven't had time to color this room in," Luna said cheerily, and served Hermione a thick slice of the white cake.

Hermione thanked her for the cake, then added, "You and your father have done a wonderful job of rebuilding. You should come to Hogwarts," she joked. "They're hardly making any headway at all." She took a forkful of cake into her mouth. It tasted fine, although faintly like pine cones.

"Oh, no, we can't leave," Luna said, entirely serious. "Professor Snape needs round-the-clock care."

Hermione choked violently on her cake.

Luna summoned a glass of water and held it out to Hermione. "It is a bit dry, isn't it? You should wait until the tea is ready."

Hermione finally managed to gulp down a mouthful of water. "Snape?" she croaked out, her eyes tearing.

"Professor Snape. From Hogwarts," Luna explained serenely.

"Yes, I know who Professor Snape is, Luna," Hermione said, coughing up the last few crumbs. "What do you mean he needs round-the-clock care? Is he here? Or what- what am I saying?" she cried. "He died, Luna. His spirit is haunting his former quarters at Hogwarts castle. That's why I'm here. I found this-" She dug out the Butterbeer bottle cork from her pocket and put it on the table in front of Luna. "-in the Shrieking Shack. We thought it looked like it came from-"

Luna picked up the cork. "-my necklace!" she crowed in delight. "It must have come apart when I Apparated him out. It's harder than you might think to Side-Along a lifeless body the size of Professor Snape's."

"I-" Hermione tried to gather her thoughts, which were racing ahead. "So you're the one who took his body from the Shack. But when?"

"Right after Harry killed Lord Voldemort. I heard him say he'd killed Snape, but then when it was all over and everyone was lining up the bodies in the Great Hall, I noticed Snape wasn't there. Nobody'd thought of him. So I went to get him. Harry told me where he was. Oh, the tea's ready." Luna hopped up as the kettle began to whistle. "It's gurdyroot. I don't much like the taste, but Daddy swears by it. If you put in several lumps of sugar you should be able to get it down. Here we go." She sat down again and poured both of their cups full of the dark purple concoction. It appeared obscene in the midst of all the white.

"But why didn't you bring his body back to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, ignoring the steaming drink.

"Because he was still alive," Luna said, matter-of-factly.

"He was still alive," Hermione repeated, not believing what she was hearing. He couldn't have been alive. Surely this was one of Luna's crazy ideas.

Luna nodded while dropping a handful of sugar into her tea. "Barely. But yes."

"But that's even more reason-" Hermione was flabbergasted by Luna's story and had no idea what to think. "Luna, where is he now?"

"Upstairs." She blew on her tea.

Hermione hung her head in her hands. "I don't believe this," she muttered. "All right, Luna," she said, very patiently, "please take me to him." She stood up.

"Don't you even want to finish your cake?" Luna asked.

"No. I really, really would like to see Professor Snape now."

Luna stood as well. "All right. Although he doesn't do much other than lie there."

_He wouldn't, if he's dead_, Hermione thought to herself. On the way up the stairs, she steeled herself for what she was about to see. Her primary hypothesis was that Luna had retrieved Snape's dead body and brought it back here believing it was full of googlyspurts or buggles or whatever they were. She only hoped that Luna - or her father - knew some good preservation spells.

When they reached the upper level, Hermione's eyes took a moment to adjust to the subdued lighting and more colorful decor. The last time she was here, the room had been dominated by an oversized mural-type painting of herself, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Neville on the ceiling. Now, it looked like a tropical paradise: images of palm trees and ocean waves ran most of the way around the circular room. One section, though, looked like someone was in the process of re-painting, as the scene suddenly changed to a frigid, Arctic wasteland. What drew Hermione's immediate interest, however, was the bed set up in the center of the room.

Indeed, there lay, unmistakably, Severus Snape. He was on his back, fully clothed but with his eyes closed. His neck was wrapped in a thick white bandage. It was definitely a very good preservation spell they had on him. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was merely sleeping.

Xenophilius was standing over him and mumbling something unintelligible, his helmet directing a light at Snape's closed eyes.

"Hello, Daddy," Luna said. "Hermione wanted to see the Professor."

Xenophilius waved them back, not wanting to interrupt whatever it was he was doing.

Hermione ignored him and went over to get a better look. Snape's skin was in perfect condition, with a faint tinge of pink; his hair was glossy, as if it had been recently washed. She could even imagine she saw a very slight twitch under his eyelid, as if he were in a dream state.

She got a very odd feeling. He couldn't be... could he? She quickly took out her wand and cast _Homenum Revelio_. A thin wedge of light extended from her wand, attached itself to the contours of Snape's body, and scanned him from head to foot. Hermione gasped.

"He's alive!" she exclaimed and pushed Xenophilius aside so she could put her cheek against Snape's chest. Faintly, yet steadily, she felt the gentle rhythmic thumping of his heart. How could this have happened? Hermione felt dizzy. She lifted her head to examine his face again. It was definitely Snape... but was it her Snape? The one she'd come to know over the past few days in a new and different light? She rested her hand against his cheek. It was warm, and she could feel the slight throb of his pulse in his jaw. Alive... and his body had been lying here this whole time, while his spirit was confused, angry, thinking he'd been forgotten.

"But what are you doing with him here?" she cried, turning an accusing eye on Luna and her father. "He needs to be in hospital!"

"Oh, no, he cannot be moved," Xenophilius said urgently, one of the attachments on his headgear slowly spinning. "If you move his body, his spirit won't know where to return to from its wanderings. He would be irrevocably severed."

"What are you talking about? He's obviously in a coma. I don't know how, but he must have survived the snakebite. Oh, why didn't we check more carefully?" Hermione fretted. "If he'd gotten the proper care immediately, he might have gotten better! Now you've just left him like this for weeks, in a vegetative state! What were you thinking?"

"We did more for him than anyone else would have," Xenophilius asserted. "He was second only to Voldemort on the the most-hated list of wizardkind. There were scores of injured students at Hogwarts, and only one person present with medimagical training. Whom do you think would have been given priority? He was moments from death when Luna brought him to me. Luckily, I recognized at once that he had been bitten by a Vampirous Viper and would lose his soul without immediate intervention.

"I was able to stabilize him well enough that he was not Turned completely, but his spirit went into deep dormancy. Recently, though, our efforts have borne fruit. His spirit has been awakening and goes wandering from time to time, although he hasn't regained consciousness. I feel confident though, that with continued treatment, he will recover fully in due course."

"Tell her about our experiments, Daddy!" Luna encouraged him, before Hermione could think of a response to this incredible tale.

"Ah, yes!" Xenophilius flipped down his eyepiece and directed a beam of light at Snape's face again. "Cutting-edge stuff, if I do say so myself. You see, as soon as I realized that he was hovering between the two worlds, I wondered if he couldn't serve as a sort of bridge, relaying messages to the other side. He's conscious of everything we say, of course, simply unable to respond. We've been giving him various messages, to pass on, and questions to ask of certain individuals. We hope he'll find the means of communicating their responses to us as well, although we may have to wait until he recovers consciousness completely. Which will be a pity, as I fear once he comes back, he'll no longer be able to cross back and forth. So we're trying to get as much use out of this opportunity as we can."

"You're insane," Hermione breathed out, horrified. "You're using this poor man to- to fuel some sick fantasy of yours of communicating with the dead? When he could have been receiving proper treatment, maybe even recovered by now?"

"No, no, you don't understand," Xenophilius said, not fazed at all by her accusations. "This is helping him. His spirit was all but gone when he came to us. He didn't want to remain. Are you saying we should have let him die? Perhaps. There are others who would agree with you. But who are we do say? We gave him the chance. He took it, perhaps grudgingly. But he stuck it out. Maybe just to see what would happen." He shrugged. "We enticed him... Luna did, at least. She knew him so much better than I did. That's what all of this is." He gestured around the room, indicating the South Seas motif.

"He didn't want to come back, Hermione," Luna explained, gazing off into the imaginary distance of the tropical sky. "I can understand him. Everyone hated him. He hated himself. He hated being at Hogwarts. So I thought, if I could create an environment that was completely different from Hogwarts, and show him what's beautiful about the earth, maybe he'd want to stay. I don't know what he likes, exactly. Maybe he doesn't either. So I paint a different mural every couple of weeks and sit with him and tell him about things. About life. About friends. I sing a lot. My mother used to sing to me, and it made me feel so very loved. I thought he might like it too.

"And then several days ago, Waldo noticed something. His spirit was waking up." Luna turned to Hermione with tears glistening in her eyes. "He was trying to come back."

Hermione was beginning to get over her initial shock and process what she was being told. Snape was alive, thanks to the Lovegoods, however backwards and illogical their reasons were. "I know where he's been going," she whispered, her eyes wide. "He's been coming to see me."

Luna beamed and threw her arms around Hermione "Oh, Hermione, how wonderful! And you've been a good friend to him, I know you have!"

"I've- We thought he was a ghost," she murmured, stunned. "Or a disembodied portrait. We've been trying to help him. Minerva and I," she added. "Oh, but Luna, now we must get him to St. Mungo's! They'll be able to help him there! We don't have a minute to lose!"

"We can't, Hermione, remember?" Luna said gently. "He has to stay here so his spirit knows where to come back to."

"I'll tell him," Hermione said. "I'll tell him his body's at St. Mungo's. Luna. Mr. Lovegood." She turned to Luna's father, her determination unyielding. "I promised him I'd do everything I could to help him. I understand you think you've done him a favor, and maybe you have. Maybe you're right about what people thought of him before, and you did save him when no one else would have. But keeping him here any longer is wrong! The authorities know the truth now, that he was working for Dumbledore all along. And all those awful things he did..." Hermione thought back to her own recent conversations with Snape, her own change of heart regarding his character. "The truth will come out about those things, too. How he tried to protect the students from the Carrows."

"Oh, yes, I know all about that," Luna assured her. "It doesn't do any good, though. People always believe what they want to anyway."

"Then we'll make them want to believe the truth," Hermione insisted. They might not listen to Luna and her father, but they'd listen to her. She'd see to that.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to give him up," Xenophilius said to Luna with a sigh. "Your friend doesn't take no for an answer; I do remember that. Although he would benefit more from remaining here," he said to Hermione, "I think he's well enough on his way to recovery that he should be able to muddle through the last bit on his own. Although perhaps, if it's you he's been visiting, he will do better in a place you can be near him more often, hm? You're welcome to move in here, you know." He winked at her.

"St. Mungo's," Hermione said firmly.

"He likes butterscotch pudding," Luna mentioned, gazing softly at Snape. "And Suo Gan."


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter song: Trapt, "New Beginning"_

**Chapter 9**

"Professor! Professor Snape!" Hermione burst into her apartment, breathless. It was after midnight. She'd spent the last few hours at St. Mungo's, taking care of formalities and making sure that Snape was settled in. The Healers had been shocked, to say the least, when she and the Lovegoods had turned up with this man everyone had presumed dead, but to their credit had handled things with the utmost professionalism. Hermione's biggest fear at this point was that the press would get wind of it and interfere with his treatment.

Snape hadn't stirred throughout the flurry around his person, and now Hermione was beginning to worry that Luna and her father might have been right about the risk of moving him. She was beating herself up mentally for not having checked Snape more thoroughly that night in the Shrieking Shack, but at the same time, she knew she couldn't second-guess her actions. She and the boys had done what they felt was most important at the time, to stop Voldemort's reign of terror. They had been working against the clock, with the evil Dark Lord's countdown running. All the more reason for her to be determined that he would make a full recovery, and not end up like Lockhart or Neville's parents.

Now, as she turned up the lights in her rooms, she fretted impatiently over Snape's absence. _Turns up every bloody time you don't want him, and then when you do- _

"Late night, Professor?"

Hermione could have hugged him. She would have, in fact, had he had a body.

"Oh, Professor!" She could hardly contain her joy. "I've found you! I mean, I've found your body!"

Snape frowned. "Are you under the influence of some potion? You're not making any sense. Not that it would make a great difference," he muttered.

"I have found ... your ... body," Hermione said in as controlled a manner as she could, given her euphoric state. She held her breath, awaiting Snape's reaction.

It left something to be desired. "I see," he stated flatly. "Well, where was I, then? Snugged away in Malfoy's cellar? Or left to the elements of the Forest, as Potter thought?"

"None of that, silly! You're alive!" She bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement.

"Now you are truly spouting nonsense!" Snape scowled. "I am clearly not alive. Or is this a hallmark of the living?" He moved through the couch and went to stand in the burning fireplace.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not explaining myself well, I'm sorry. I'm just ... so excited. I can't believe it!"

She took a deep breath and began pacing around the room as she went through the incredible tale of what she had found when she went to the Lovegoods'. As she spoke, Snape drifted out of the fireplace and came closer and closer to her.

"Are you saying..." he said, sotto voce, when she had ended her recitation, "that I did not die in the Shrieking Shack that night?"

Hermione shook her head, beaming. "Nope."

"Then what is this- What am I?" He gestured at his body.

"An astral projection would be my best guess. But that doesn't matter, what matters now is getting you back into your body, for good! Now-"

Hermione launched into what the Healers had told her their next plans for treatment were, hardly noticing that Snape had turned away and wandered into a corner of the room.

"-so the first thing you need to do is find your way to St. Mungo's," she finally concluded, "because that's where your body is now." When Snape didn't answer, Hermione prompted him, "Professor? Did you hear what I said? I should think it's something like Apparating. You know: destination, determination, deliberation. Just picture St. Mungo's; you must have been there before-"

"No," Snape said, quietly.

"... what was that?" Hermione asked.

"I said: No." Snape spoke through clenched teeth, his back still to Hermione. She approached him, cautious now, as she heard something dangerous in his tone.

"You haven't been to St. Mungo's before? Okay, that's a bit of a problem, but maybe we can-"

"Of course I've been to St. Mungo's before!" Snape growled over his shoulder. "I meant no, I'm not going."

Hermione took a moment to consider what he meant. Finally, she asked hesitantly, "Professor? Don't you want to go back to your body?"

Snape pressed his fists to his forehead, but didn't answer.

"The bite healed up well, if that's what you're worried about. I mean, there's a scar, but it's not like Bill or anything..."

"I don't care what it looks like - what I look like! I don't want to go back to my body! I don't want-"

"But then you'll die," Hermione whispered, stricken. "The Healers said if you don't return to your body at least once every twenty-four hours, you'll be permanently severed. You can't- I mean, you just can't-"

"I can! It's my choice!" He whirled around to face her, his expression fierce. "For once in my life, it's my choice!"

"But-"

"Once again, you are being tiresomely repetitive, Professor! Your friend Miss Lovegood was entirely correct in her assumption that there was nothing enticing enough to make me want to return. There is nothing for me here now. I served my purpose, and my time came. I have already made my peace with the fact of my continued existence as a Hogwarts portrait - something I didn't consider when I agreed to take on the position of Headmaster, but there's no changing it now. But beyond that - I'm tired," he said, and he did look it now, all the fight draining out of him, his face becoming long and drawn. All he wanted were chains to make the resemblance to poor Bob Marley's ghost complete. "I made a mess of my life, and those of many others as well. Why would I want to continue that?"

"Because you're not the same person now," Hermione said quietly. "It's not the same world."

"The world may have changed, but I am the same person," he said in a low and despondent tone. "You may see me differently now... but I haven't changed."

"Then change yourself, if you don't like it! But I have the feeling you don't see yourself as you truly are. You think you're horrible and dark and mean, and I'll admit, there is that side to you. Or at least you acted that part very well, in the past. But you're also noble and selfless, you're loyal and clever-"

"You make it sound as if those are good things," Snape said bitterly. "Gryffindor traits-"

"And Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. It's not about your House, it's about your heart. You have a good heart, Professor. You've just had to hide it from everyone for so long, you've forgotten what it looks like yourself. But Luna saw it, and I see it now too. I think Harry does as well."

"Lovegood thinks kneazles are running the government, and Potter's opinion has never been of interest to me."

"And me? What about my opinion?"

Snape glared at Hermione, as if it were her fault he couldn't come up with a good retort. "Just so much romantic drivel," he finally muttered. "I've become your cause célèbre; you are merely attempting to justify your interest in my case."

"I'm not interested in your 'case'. I'm interested in you. God, listen to me!" She laughed shortly and spun around, walking over to stare into the fire. "I think life in the dungeons is getting to me," she muttered, amused. "I like coming home and finding you here. I'm actually disappointed when you're not! I like talking to you... well, not the arguments so much. You're a very pig-headed man, do you know that?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "But there's so much more to you than I used to think. I want to find out everything; to know everything."

"You were always a bloody nuisance know-it-all," Snape said grudgingly.

Hermione smiled. "Yes, I was. And I am. And I'm not going to give up on you now, not when we're so close. You don't need to return to teach at Hogwarts, you know. You can do whatever you want."

"I have no home, no money-"

"I'm sure there are people who can be persuaded to help get you set up wherever you want. Lucius Malfoy, for one, still has an unpaid debt to me, and I wouldn't be at all surprised to find out he owes you a thing or two as well. And then there's Harry. Besides, who needs money when you have magic?"

"A very tidy solution," he said haughtily. "Save my life so that you can feel self-righteous, then throw money at the problem until it goes away, preferably somewhere without a Floo connection or any chance of returning to haunt you."

Hermione threw her arms up in exasperation. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, you can live out the remainder of your days hiding in my quarters if that's what you want!"

Snape folded his arms and looked down his nose at her. "If I'm still alive, these are still _my _quarters."

"Not if your contract was terminated," Hermione pointed out.

"Is there anything you don't have an answer to?" he asked, although he didn't seem as irritated as he tried to make it sound.

Hermione laughed. "Oh, yes. Many things." _Boys - men_, she thought, correcting herself. _You_. She realized that somehow, she and Snape had ended up standing there facing each other in front of the fire. The light from the hearth shone right through him, making him glow and softening his features so that he appeared ... more at peace, perhaps. Hermione felt the unfamiliar desire to reach up and touch his face, recalling the feel of his skin under her hand at the Lovegoods'. Something was changing between them. The usual tension had been replaced... with a different kind of tension.

"I have no doubt you will continue to apply yourself until you have discovered those answers," Snape said, with a hint of amusement in his voice, although his face remained as passive as ever.

Hermione felt her heart beating hard against her ribs and hoped he couldn't see the throbbing rhythm through her clothes. "Yes. You're right," she finally said.

Snape searched her face with his strange, semi-translucent eyes. "Bravo," he said, very low and soft. "I do believe that's the first time I've heard those words out of your ... mouth." His eyes stopped on the feature mentioned and hung there.

"So... will you go?" Hermione finally said when the suspense became too much for her. "To St. Mungo's?"

Snape slowly raised his gaze to meet hers. "I'm not certain I have a choice."

"You always have a choice."

"Not with you, it seems."

Not quite sure how to take that, Hermione tried to play it off with humor. "No, that's right," she said with a toss of her head. "I always get my way. So off to St. Mungo's with you! Or... " She hesitated as another possible complication occurred to her. "I'd like to be there when you wake up." _If he wakes up_, a pessimistic voice inside her warned. "To make sure everything's all right, and tell you what happened," she explained, trying to make it sound like merely professional interest. "You might not remember any of this, after all."

"I believe that visiting hours for St. Mungo's are long over," Snape said.

"Yes, so... you could stay here. I mean here, in this room. And I could sleep a bit. In the other room. Although I'm so keyed up, I'm not sure I can really sleep. But I could probably use the rest, since-"

"Professor Granger. You have the most annoying tendency to babble when you are unsure what to say."

Hermione closed her mouth, then began again at a more measured pace. "Yes, sorry. What I mean is: if you don't mind waiting a couple of hours, we could leave for the hospital at the same time in the morning. Just so I can make sure you arrive there safely."

Snape inclined his head slightly. "That sounds acceptable."

Hermione couldn't help smiling broadly. "Good. Then I'll... just go to bed now." She jerked her thumb in the direction of the other room.

"I will remain here."

"If you do feel yourself... fading away, like you do sometimes? Just remember to think, 'St. Mungo's'," she instructed him. "I wouldn't want you to get lost."

"No, indeed."

"Good night, then, Professor." Hermione started toward the bedroom.

"Good night."

Before she could say anything more foolish, Hermione hurried into the bedroom and pushed the door almost all the way closed, leaving a hand's breadth of space. Her body and mind buzzing from the night's events, and looking forward to the next day with both anticipation and a case of nerves as big as Slytherin's basilisk, it seemed an interminably long time until the morning.

======

At around four in the morning, Hermione, weary from tossing and turning in her bed, and determining that sleep would be impossible that night, sat up with the intention of going out and seeing if Snape were still there. It seemed ridiculous that she should be exiled in her room whilst he remained out in the living room, unable to recline or rest himself.

As soon as she pushed the covers back, though, she noticed a shadow momentarily block the faint light coming in through the partly open bedroom door.

"Professor?" she said softly. "Is that you?"

The shadow stopped. "Yes," he answered in a likewise quiet voice. "I am sorry, I did not mean to disturb you."

"I wasn't able to sleep anyway," she said, propping herself up in bed. "Come in."

"I am here," his voice said from somewhere near her.

Hermione startled a bit at the realization that had probably been in the bedroom longer than just the past few moments. "Have you been here the whole time?"

"No," he answered, although there was something evasive in his response.

"But you were in here, just now- before I spoke to you."

There was silence for a few seconds, before he admitted, "Yes."

Hermione was silent in return.

"I apologize," he said stiffly, "I did not mean to take liberties. I thought you asleep."

"I wasn't able to sleep. Did you... Have you been in here often? On other nights? When I was sleeping?"

"Rarely. I usually ... left: involuntarily ... not long after you would retire. In reflecting on what we have now discovered about my state, I believe I also ... fell asleep during those hours, my spirit returning to my body for rest."

"And the other times? You did watch me sleeping, didn't you?"

"I couldn't actually see anything," Snape said, and Hermione could hear the sneer in his voice even if she couldn't see it on his face through the darkness. "I am not a lecherous old man entertaining fantasies over your lifeless form."

"I didn't say you were. I mean, it's a bit creepy... but I think I understand. It must have been lonely and boring, being stuck here in the dark for hours on end and not able to leave or do anything."

"As you say. There were moments, when the window-picture was very dark, when I didn't know whether I was still here, or had drifted into some limbo. Hearing you breathe enabled me to maintain my orientation."

"And?" Hermione asked, grinning. "Do I snore?"

"No," he said, sounding affronted at being called on to answer such a ridiculous question.

"I'm going to turn up the lights a bit. I don't think either of us is going to get any more sleep tonight." With a brief command, the level of illumination increased to a dim twilight. She was now able to see Snape standing near her, and mentally checked her state of dress. Finding it acceptable and unlikely to arouse his sensibilities, she pulled the covers up around herself like a nest and made herself comfortable.

"I would offer you a seat, but-"

"I do not suffer from physical weariness in this state," Snape informed her.

"We could go into the other room, but it's just more comfortable for me here. You don't mind, do you?"

"I find the sight of you in my bed no longer as disturbing as it was initially."

"Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd hear you say."

Snape glared at her. "Do not assume that-"

Hermione held up a hand, laughing. "All right, it's all right, don't worry. I'll take that to mean you're getting used to the idea that this is no longer your room, at least for this school year. And, strangely, I don't find the sight of you in _my _bedroom as disturbing as I did initially." She silently dared him to pick up on that, shocked at her own audacity in flirting with Severus Snape.

"When I am back in my body, I can assure you there will be no need to replicate the situation."

_Shame_, Hermione found herself thinking automatically, accompanied by a swooping feeling in her stomach. But she said, "So you are going back to your body. I'm glad," and smiled out of genuine happiness.

"We shall see, at least, what happens," he said. "Am I to understand that you wish to spend the remaining hours until St. Mungo's opens in conversation?"

"Unless you have a better suggestion?" she asked, trying to obliterate any hint of sauciness from her remark.

Snape looked as if he were considering a retort of some kind, but instead, after a few seconds, said, "No. But perhaps we could discuss something of substance."

"By all means," Hermione readily agreed, glad to move away from the slippery footing of negotiating the terms of their relationship and onto the solid ground of scientific inquiry. "I would be interested to hear of any projects you were working on before your ... non-death."

And so they were able to pass the remaining time until the sun rose, with Hermione gently plying Snape with what she hoped were innocuous questions on topics of a non-personal nature, which nevertheless interested her. He spoke at first as if he were giving a lecture, obviously unused to the give-and-take of a genuine conversation, but as the clock crept toward the end of their adventure, he paused more often to listen to Hermione's opinions and thoughts; or perhaps he was merely growing weary, and his mental faculties were lagging.

When the light from the window-picture in the next room became greater than the dimness in the bedroom, Hermione stretched and suggested they might start getting ready. St. Mungo's would open at 8 am to visitors.

Snape withdrew to the living room to give Hermione privacy for washing and getting dressed. As she did so, one issue kept circling around in her mind and wouldn't let her go: would Snape remember this episode, and all that had passed between them? She was coming to regard him as a friend, one whom she didn't want to lose. She didn't know if it would be possible for them to regain the fragile trust and bridge of understanding that they had built up over the past week, if he had no memory of what had happened. She also felt it was important, for his sake - for his mental recovery - that he remember. If he woke up to the world he knew only from before, one where he had no friends nor even allies, where he was vilified by most and tolerated, at best, by only a few... he might curse everyone who had a part in saving him, and perhaps worse.

"Well, I think I'm ready," Hermione said as she emerged from the bedroom, putting on a bright face. "Before we go, though, there's something I want to talk to you about."

Snape groaned. "Haven't you done enough talking for one night? I am so tired I believe I would find my way back to my body without even trying."

"That's good, and we'll be off in just a minute. I want to be sure, though... I want you to remember. I want you to remember everything we talked about, and all the people who want you back. Everyone who helped you."

Snape's lip curled. "Why? So that you may all collect on a wizard's debt?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, hurt that he would even think such a thing. "I have no claim over you; if anyone did, it would be Luna and her father, but they would never hold that over you. I doubt they would even think of it, unless you brought it up.

"I just want you to know... Here, I know this is silly, but I couldn't think of anything better." She held up a sparkling hair pin, the one she'd used to test Luna's cork. "This is to remind you that you have friends you can count on. I know you can't take it now, and you'd probably refuse to take it even if you could. But as soon as I get to St. Mungo's, I'm going to put this in your hand, your real hand. Then when you wake up... maybe it will jog something in your memory." Hermione busied herself with stowing the hair pin in her pocket, afraid of seeing Snape's derision and contempt for her foolish sentimentality.

As he did not answer, Hermione, embarrassed but determined, went to her fireplace and stirred the embers until a small fire had rekindled itself. "St. Mungo's, then, Professor," she said, louder than was necessary, and finally dared to look up at him. "I'll be there."

He was watching her, impassive as always, but when their eyes met, he gave her a slight nod.

She grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the jar on the mantel and threw it into the fire, causing a rush of green flames to flare up. "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries!" she cried out as she stepped in. As the room spun away, she caught one last glimpse of Snape, raising one hand to her in salutation.


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter song: Akon, "Come Back to Me"_

**Chapter 10**

"Any change?" Harry laid a hand gently on Hermione's shoulder.

She looked down at the pale face of their former professor, lying in the bed at St. Mungo's, and shook her head.

"Maybe I should have left him at the Lovegoods'," she whispered, trying not to cry. She'd done enough of that over the last twelve hours, ever since she'd arrived that morning.

"You did the right thing, Hermione," Harry assured her, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Come on, you haven't eaten anything all day. My treat."

"I can't leave him, Harry! We left him once-"

"Ginny will stay with him."

Hermione turned around and saw Ginny hovering near the door.

She came over to stand next to Harry, putting her arm around his waist. "It's fine, Hermione. I'll let you know the second he wakes up."

Hermione shook her head again, turning back to Snape. "I promised him. Bring me a sandwich or something, I'll be fine."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look. They knew how stubborn Hermione could be once she got her mind set on a cause.

"All right," Harry agreed, "but we'll be right back. And then we're going to stay here and make sure you eat, and leave with us at ten. You have to sleep sometime."

"Okay, go on," Hermione said hastily, having no intention of leaving, but wanting to appease her friends.

As soon as they left, Hermione pulled her chair closer to the bed and inspected Snape's face closely, looking for some hint of life in it. His eyes had moved back and forth under the lids at various times during the day, which Hermione hoped meant that he was asleep and dreaming... because that would also mean he had found his way back to his body.

The Healers had been running tests on him all day, checking for traces of Dark magic or poisons. They hadn't told her what they'd found, and Hermione was frustrated to no end at being so helpless.

She reached under the blanket and pulled out his hand. It was curled shut, so she gently pulled his fingers apart to check that her hair pin was still there, then pressed both of her hands around his to hold it fast.

Once she'd got herself established at his bedside, she'd notified Harry and Minerva of what was going on. She'd also asked Minerva to check in the dungeon quarters, to make sure that Snape wasn't still stuck there, but she'd reported back that the rooms were empty. Harry had made certain that a MLE officer was stationed outside of the hospital room, to turn away any curious members of the public or the press who might have heard about the situation. It would have to come out sometime, but for now they were trying to keep everything quiet.

Beyond that, Hermione knew, there was nothing more for them to do but wait. Time was ticking away, though. In just a short while, it would be twenty-four hours since his body had been moved, and since his spirit had - possibly - been unable to find its way back.

"Come on, Professor. Where are you?" she whispered. She realized that she had begun to massage his hand as she held it. His skin was warm, especially in comparison to her rather cold fingers. His own fingers were rounded and firm; solid. It was still hard for her to unify this body with the Snape she'd become acquainted with down in the dungeons. He had been not quite real, somehow; perhaps it was because she'd thought of him as a painting a good deal of the time. That was also probably one of the reasons she'd found it relatively easy to approach him, converse with him, even order him around a bit. And why she hadn't thought more than twice about prancing about half-naked in front of him.

Maybe he'd forget about that part.

As she absent-mindedly rubbed the back of his hand, she almost didn't notice his head roll slightly to one side. Then, though, her attention was drawn to his face as the skin around his eyes crinkled up, as if he were building up toward trying to open them.

Hermione's heart started hammering wildly. "Professor? Professor Snape?"

Finally, slowly, his eyelids lifted, and his gaze wandered around, hazy and unfocused.

"Are you all right? Can you hear me?" Hermione was torn between running for a Healer and jumping up and screaming at the top of her lungs for joy.

Snape's lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but was too weak.

"It's all right, I'm here," Hermione said breathlessly, then, realizing that he might not remember anything, added, "Hermione: Hermione Granger. We've been so worried about you."

Snape slowly brought his eyes around to focus on Hermione. "Water," he whispered hoarsely.

Hermione jumped up to fill the cup standing on the bedside table, then held it to Snape's lips and let a bit dribble in.

He closed his eyes again, and Hermione leaned over him, so close that her hair brushed his face, anxious lest he should drift off again.

"Professor," Snape said slowly and carefully, "don't go getting any ideas. This is _my _bed, and you're not going to usurp it so easily as you did the last one."

Hermione grinned, her throat constricting with emotion. "Welcome back, sir," she whispered, and brushed a hasty kiss against his cheek.

"Severus. Call me Severus."

_Author's Note: That is the end, aside from a brief epilogue. This was written for Harry Holidays 2010, so I kind of had to end it here, otherwise it wouldn't have been done in time. Thank you all for your enthusiasm and support. _


	11. Epilogue

_Chapter song: Lee Ann Womack, "I Found It in You"  
_

**Epilogue**

"We're not staying," Snape said, adjusting his scarf more tightly around his neck, and not just because of the chill December air. He never went out in public without it, preferring not to expose his scar to gawkers.

"You've said that a hundred times." Hermione sighed and squeezed his arm more tightly against her side.

Snape grunted, but didn't get a chance to say more as Kreacher opened the wreath-festooned door of number 12, Grimmauld Place. "Professors," he croaked, bowing low to usher them in.

"Snape! Hermione!" Harry was just coming up the stairs from the kitchen, whence delicious smells of holiday spices and meats were emanating.

"Professor Snape, Harry," Hermione hissed through gritted teeth.

"That's quite all right," Snape said smoothly. "I am, after all, no longer a professor. Potter." He inclined his head in greeting.

"Why don't you come downstairs: Ginny's baked a tonne of goodies and she expects me to eat them all by myself!" Harry grinned. Domestic life became him, Hermione thought. He'd finally got what he always wanted.

"We're not staying," Snape said firmly. "We only came by so that I could deliver this." He thrust an envelope at Harry.

"Thanks." Harry took the envelope and fingered it, looking to Hermione for a cue.

"You can open it," Hermione said.

Snape blew air audibly out of his nose, which Hermione knew meant that he was impatient to be gone; emotional situations were still uncomfortable for him. In fact, he'd wanted her to bring the items to Harry herself, and leave him out of it, but she'd insisted that it was important and right for him to do it. It had taken this many months for him to finally work up the courage to do so - or to get fed up with her nagging.

Harry tore the envelope open and took out a single sheet of yellowed stationery and a torn photograph. He looked down at them for a long while, then sniffed deeply. "Thanks," he finally said.

"I had no right to take them. I apologize," Snape said in a formal manner.

"It's all right," Harry said, tucking the two sheets back into the envelope. When he looked up at his visitors, his eyes were bright. "I don't have many pictures of her, so... well, it means a lot. Thanks."

Snape nodded once, then looked impatiently down at Hermione.

She spoke to Harry: "Tell Ginny hi for me, and I promise I'll come back some other time to try everything."

"Sure." Harry leaned in to tell Hermione conspiratorially, "You're welcome to come back later on tonight once you put the old guy to bed."

Hermione slapped Harry on the arm, and Snape droned, "I heard that, Potter."

Harry straightened up and held out his hand to Snape, grinning. "Happy Christmas, sir. In case I don't see you."

Snape eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but then gave him his hand as well. "Happy Christmas, Potter."

Hermione looked on, beaming. Her two fellas, making nice.

Once they were outside again and Kreacher had closed the door behind them, Hermione stopped and pulled Snape to her, putting both arms around his waist. "Thank you."

"You weren't going to give me any rest until I did it. It was entirely a self-serving action."

"Mmm..." Hermione tipped her face up and stood on her tiptoes to reach his lips. "Still," she said against his mouth. "I appreciate how hard it was for you." She fell silent, then, devoting her attention and her tongue instead to an action that was as self-serving as it was generous.

"I believe Potter said something about getting this 'old guy' to bed," Snape finally said when they came up for air.

A moment later, a brief crack rent the air, leaving behind the echo of a witch's tinkling laughter.

THE END

_Soundtrack Selections_  
_Title Track: Hurts - "Wonderful Life"_  
_Chapter 1: Caleigh Peters - "I Can Do Anything"_  
_Chapter 2: Rodgers & Hammerstein - "Getting to Know You"_  
_Chapter 3: James Taylor - "Something's Wrong"_  
_Chapter 4: Milow - "You Don't Know"_  
_Chapter 5: Family Force 5 - "Topsy Turvy"_  
_Chapter 6: Indigo Girls - "Closer to Fine"_  
_Chapter 7: Chiodos - "Closed Eyes Still Look Forward"_  
_Chapter 8: Mojofly - "Close to the End"_  
_Chapter 9: Trapt - "New Beginning"_  
_Chapter 10: Akon - "Come Back to Me"_  
_Epilogue: Lee Ann Womack - "I Found It in You"_


End file.
